Why
must you transcend the body, when every photon of your protoplasm, lymph, blood
and marrow, is woven out of transcendental consciousness? This body is a matrix
of subterranean cilia, fibers of starlight, celestial beams of beauty emanating
from atoms of dust, vectors of time, eternal past and future, entangled through
the warp and woof of neurons in your hypothalamus, yes, the whole cosmos
clustered in each infinitesimal holographic spark of your ineffable uniqueness.
Sense each twinge of pain as a message from the Goddess Shakti, vibrant with healing
fire. Feel each throb of anger or despair in your belly or bone, as a tremor in
the love-ocean. Witness your grief, your rage, your small mind desperately
clinging to names and forms, as a mother watches over her children. As the moon
gazes on a thousand flickering candles. As a fertile well of blackness in the
galactic core, runs her luscious caress of emptiness through the hollow of a
star, through a nucleus threaded on your rosary of DNA. Let the seer clearly see, without grasping the seen.
Be free in the heart of chaos. There is nowhere else to be free.
Art by Natiana Nikolova
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