Sitting
What could be simpler than sitting, just sitting, late on an October afternoon, witnessing a sunbeam pour through the soft spot in my crown, soaking these eyes in the source of seeing, pure liquid light not granulated into thoughts, trickling down my throat and spine into the humble valley just below my breastbone, where a sparkling torrent of inhalation shatters my heart into ten billion stars, the infinitesimal quantum hologram of the galaxy, golden overflow into the sacrum, spilling loins, rooting toes in the mushroom pulse of leaf loam, mingling my nucleotides and moldering my cytoplasm into one slow silent thunderbolt of love – the love of earth for sky, of breath for bone, of every pilgrim thread from sun-spindled darkness for its chosen bead of glory in this host of grails, our human flesh. Silence is beauty, friend, and each cell of your body is a chalice for holding the Christ. Practice this.
Staying
Yet when my root cannot deepen in the ground of silence, because it meets only rock and thin soil, stones of resistance and doubt, pain in the body or anxiety of mind, then what can I do? Nothing. Simply stay. My very willingness to stay, to witness the pain and resistance, becomes the mulch that nourishes my seed. My willingness to remain, just to remain here, is the compost of my resistances that enriches my root. Patience is not required where there is no time. The witness does not dwell in time. Time is the passage of thoughts, not what I actually Am. As I witness and breath through them, my very wounds and worst habits are the loam of dark energy, the organic fire that flowers my soul. The first and last instruction is: rest the mind in the heart, and simply stay.
Offered as guided meditation on SoundCloud HERE
Ryoanji Buddhist temple, Kyoto
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