The invasion was unexpected and uninvited; it happened
one numinous now
when the minder of memories had her back turned.
In crept wild wideawakeness, sleuthing
through this dormitory of sleeping stories,
slipping from cocoon to cocoon
dubbing each bedded-down memory
with its diamond dagger and pronouncing each one
an esteemed and luminous Member of the Matrix.
It lifted up the wounded and the weary,
the lost and lonesome, the betrayed
and the broken, saying
To know this pain, beloved
is to know That which is beyond time
for That alone has the capacity to be aware
and in your naked awareness of your pain
you are naturally ever-enlightened.
You imagine your enlightenment to be
other than this wretchedness –
you take it as proof that you
haven’t yet “made the shift”
yet how could pain (or pleasure) be known
if enlightenment were not fully present?
By what function of cognition
would you aware this knowing?
By both logic and experience it’s found
that the unlit light of awareness
is prior to every sensory perception.
Will you stay tucked up in your cocoon
dreaming of the mirage of your awakening
shimmering in some distant space and time
or will you blink now
and own up to your feral freedom?
– ml, 2012
Tantric Painting, India, c1800 or earlier, detail
This post was originally published on my blog this unlit light in October 2012.
Well hello there Disappointment! You’ve been on my mind of late. I’ve been reflecting on how your gracious appearances in my life were usually both misunderstood and unappreciated. And I reckon I owe you an apology. It’s a bit late coming, but since you are surely impervious to expectation I doubt that will bother you too much.
This morning these words lined up unbidden. They made me smile; I thought you might like to read them.
your thumping Grace opened up
a view without a viewer
a life without an agenda
a heart at home in its hallowed holiness
your diamond-edged scalpel
shaved clean the fluff and fantasy
excising my every erudite question
leaving no trace –
not even a shadow of ‘understanding’
a phantom could claim as ‘I am’
or even I am not
you turned me towards your ruthless kindness
revealing every betrayal and abuse
every heart-break and aching longing
to be an instant portal
to the eye-popping Knowing
that is unknowable
beyond, so utterly beyond,
where every word is empty, hollow, meaningless
and all there is to do is giggle
at this glorious ever-unfurling
are you not the supreme guide and guru?
is there a faster track to seamless intimacy
with the everyday world of multiplicity?
could there be a greater blessing than your quiet interest
in our stumblings towards the light?
oh have me so completely
that true vulnerability is birthed
. . .
Image: Johannes Vermeer: A Lady Writing, detail.
Source – Artmight.com