Whirling Stillness

 

Dissolve the do-er
and let the dance arise.
Whatever you're doing
is not meditation.
Whirling arises in stillness.
Stillness arises in whirling.
Who breathes you?
Who plays your body like a flute
with seven doorways to emptiness?
Silence knowing its own
royal opulence, we call
God.
Silence undulating
into creation, we call
Goddess.
No-thingness gives birth
for the sake of love.
Darkness spills light
for the sake of play.
Let there be rays and shadows,
waves and troughs.
Why does the sacred Zero
become Two?
Because One is not so interesting.


Photo: Mt. Tahoma taken on my walk today.

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