Uradiance

Dostoyevsky wrote that the earth will be saved by beauty. I believe it, but I'm not convinced humans will be here to see it. Humanity may be a brief and furious experiment. The planet may sparkle more clearly without us. Consciousness may realize itself through some other species with far less violence and melodrama: dolphins perhaps, or hummingbirds... I do know this. In the little time I have left to taste earth's beauty, I will not be anxious. I will not be outraged. And I will try with all my soul not to whine. We waste far too much energy doing that, whether in the name of politics or prayer. Instead, I vow to savor this breath, to rest my mind in the heart, and to radiate love like a simple-minded flower. Art by Martin J. Heade

This body is not   just a house of dust but a wind-harp for the whisper of a stranger’s breath seeking friendship in your chest. As the evening breeze selects the pine, as a moonbeam chooses one trillium among ferns, that silent caress, so an ancient yearning chose your mother’s spine. How supple she was, undulating to receive you. When you agreed to her darkness, what were you wanting? A density of light? Isn’t it time to remember? Let your heart be pure listening now, and your body will become a song. Photo: Harmony, Inc.

99% of our suffering dissolves when we learn to observe our thoughts instead of believing them. Who is the witness of the mind? Who observes this thought arise and depart, without clicking 'like' or getting lost in an endless thread of commentary? The Witness of thought is not a thought, and cannot be known by thought. Gracefully transcending the mind, rest as boundless living silence, then return refreshed for action. This is the value of meditation. Pick up the intellect again and use it as a tool, but it doesn't use you. Dispel a thousand thoughts like clouds in the blue sky of awareness. But keep one sparkling jewel in your heart, the sun of pure love. The one who teaches you this transcendental art is truly your Friend. Photo by JSL Photography

This Russian Orthodox icon hangs in our home. It is Saint Sophia with the Three Virtues, faith, hope, and charity. But as in all iconography, the truth of the images penetrates much deeper into the mythic unconscious. To me this window reveals the Goddess Trinity. Sophia Wisdom is the Holy Spirit, feminine power of Christ - his Shakti. The three Graces are her gifts. What are these three gifts of Grace? To know Yourself. To know an enlightened Teacher. And to know the divine Friend who dwells deeper inside you than your soul. As the bee makes the same golden honey from three different flowers, these three forms of Grace are one. Thank you, Mother Wisdom.

The best leader has no opinion, no party, and offers no policy at all. A policy is just an imitation of what love will do when the moment arrives. Does the dragonfly know how it will land on a trembling reed? When others speak of a crisis she responds gently, then moves on like a cloud on the mountain. She is not of the left, the right, or the center. She surrounds a problem from all sides with pure consciousness and it is not a problem. She does not pretend to know what is correct and incorrect, for being right only stops the current of life. Creation pulses from the heart of uncertainty. Therefore she is an example, not a lawgiver. When others are inspired, they do the work. She rests in gratitude and overflows with power. Listening is silence is compassion. The nation that puts this into practice needs no government. What is her goal? To dissolve the end into the beginning with every step. Where does rain go after it rains? Ever disappeari...

The Friend said, "Empty your mind, make room for my gaze." I said, "But I'm an educated man!" The Friend said, "Your head is clothed in many words but your heart seeks nakedness, laughter and tears." "What shall I say when men of knowledge call me a fool?" "Say nothing. Just teach them to dance."

"Ano-raniyan, mahato-mahiyan: Smaller than the smallest is greater than the greatest." ~Upanishads No body is as small as God, who is smaller than a gnat, smaller than a speck of pollen on a bee's foot, or the tremor of gravity in the ocean of a quark. God is more insignificant than the time it takes light to pass through a hair's breadth. Any creature as tiny as That must be un-created, with a perfectly silent name. A sparkling  so imperceptible as God would have to disappear into everything, a swirl of galaxies dissolving in the stillness between heartbeats. Infinite power is yours when you are that small. Photo by Aile Shebar

In the beginning was the Verb, daring grace without a do-er. The question is, if no God ever said Let there be light, wouldn't this all have happened anyway? Let there be no noun but fire, a breast of becoming, mothering brilliant shadows. Let there be You, purest act of mirroring, astonishing your way through the swirling navel of causeless joy. You the entangled womb filled with moons and dolphins. You, the swimming itself, neither milkmaid nor pitcher, only the pouring without a brim for this cauldron of stars, your body.

A family of possums living in an old tire. Waves of morning glories drowning an abandoned Chevy. Who planted these flowers in the junkyard? No one, friend, no one. I would rather love the smallest good than hate the greatest evil. The robin weaves her nest from threads of dangling moss, dead twigs. She is too ardent for outrage. The moth does not protest the evening of the world. The honeysuckle's thin silent trumpet conquers the night with a drop of dew. What are you resisting? Be open to the kiss of rain, caresses of sunset. Expand the bitter sweetness of your heart and bees will return. Here's the revolution: breathe, sing in the dark, be grateful.

  You were not commanded to re-act. Let strangers taste the fruits they have chosen. This is a dance of broken stems bleeding untainted sap. After a thousand lifetimes   attempting to change the world you'll finally breathe without trying to fix anything, not even yourself. Love will flower from astounded stillness of the will. You'll awaken to entanglement, tiny creatures like yourself overflowing with tears, and you'll be reborn, perhaps, as a dripping chalice of honeysuckle.