Being is beauty. Naked
beauty veiled in thoughts. I gaze upon her when the mind is silent. Resting
awareness in the body, thought dissolves. Every cell becomes a chalice of fire.
Even the voice of the Creator falls silent when I behold the glory of my true
body, my nervous system extended through the mushroom tapestry of the soil,
through microbial breath spores in the sky, through photons of consciousness in
the stars. Black holes at the center of the galaxies are pulsations of silence in
every quark of flesh. What do I seek? The glory of my own Being. Where can I
glimpse it? In the mirror of your heart, friend. Resonating with the heart of a
friend, I attune to my own soul. How could there be any conflict between
solitude and community? Between transcendence and embodiment? Each dust mote of
this human form enshrines the transcendental formless radiance of God.
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