The knowing of Knowing
is the sweetest somatic intimacy, the ultimate G[od]-spot.
It’s no wonder poets pen passionate love-notes
to their beloved Beloved.
It’s more evident than any revelation,
more obvious than anything observed.
Yet this seamless saturation is neither an experience
nor anything that could be called an attainment.
It’s prior to consciousness,
to memory, to perception, to imagination.
(I say “prior to” but I don’t mean a-p-a-r-t from.
Perhaps precursory would be a better word.)
How mysterious that it’s completely overlooked, ignored,
while at the same time
hungered for/longed for/searched for/worked for/studied for/meditated for/practiced for/prayed for/paid for, in time, devotion and sacrifice . . .
What a joke!
No GPS can locate it.
Yet it’s inescapable.
I don’t need a guru, method, scripture, sledgehammer
to wake up to the fact that whatever I am
is unarguably and precisely whatever I perceive, experience, feel.
I only have to look from a silent mind.
To acknowledge this Knowing –
to abide as it, to act as it –
restores me to the all-inclusive immensity
I knew all along.
Since breath #1 was gasped on a summer’s morning in 1944
and these innocent eyes first opened
onto the mindscape
words like suffering and salvation were sown there
sprouting addictive fantasies
about enlightenment, transcendence, escape
I was thought-washed to believe that
the embodiment of this Knowing
would erase every discomfort and dysfunction from my experience
the dark net of distinctions descended
I learned to be clever.
– miriam louisa
Artwork by Jean-Michel Meurice
Urgell 1, 2004
Acrylic on fabric, 215 x 215cm
More info HERE
I love the way this work portrays the richness of our circular existence, the dance of the dreamer around the still, silent core. It’s a wonderful example of contemporary Tantric art.
It’s been a year of farewells: a brother, an artist comrade, and now another old buddy from my peer-group has gone.
Again I meet the temporality, the impermanence of this experience of being alive.
Again something rises to state the actuality of my experience – not to comfort or console, but to remind myself that everything appearing is a window onto the everlastingly unaffected.
So that whatever life dishes up has some small chance of being met with honesty and presence. So that I might be sane enough to remember that my wishes – no matter how profound – have nothing to do with what-is. So that I might see directly, act appropriately.
I’m ok with old age. The need to change anything falls away. Candles in the wind.
Yet (occasionally) (rarely these days) I’m moved to share a confession. You never can tell, it might be the last one. And there are things I want to say before I go.
Thank you for reading.