Do you know the difference between a human breath and the breath of the Goddess? Gratitude. Your mere thankfulness transmutes air into an ocean of Shakti. The cool hollow of your nostrils is the entrance to her grotto. On the moist caverns of your body are engraved the secret runes of her dance. Her nectar drips behind your tongue, making the sound of rain on a Spring breeze playing through the leaves and twigs of your alveoli.
In your chest is a portal of emptiness resonant with the name of Shambho, a black hole of swirling stillness worming through the galactic core of all your atoms. This must be the mute astonished mouth of prayer.
Into this spiraling well of pregnant rubies, Fall. Exhale tumbling down a staircase of crystal possibilities, to the infernal cavern of your reptilian ancestors. Thread your dark gaze through seven radiant flowers, until you emerge in the moonlit ruins of a jungle palace, at the center of a city once encrusted in coral.
Don't be seduced by distances. All distance is a lie, whether in space or time. This city is a sparkle of gold on a grain of sand. This city is a synapse in your amygdala. What were you looking for? Paradise is a floater in your eye. Do you not yet understand that the gaze by which you seek emerges from the very orb of glory you are seeking?
The splendor without circumference, without center, without opposite, is You. In your diaphragm is a mirror ceaselessly polished by respiration, where you marvel at a dissolving star in the night of your own pure consciousness. Then a sunbeam pierces a bud. It opens, yet the blossom does not cry, "I did this!" We are here to be pierced by an Other. All I mean to tell you is, as your lungs breathe air, so your heart breathes God.
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