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.