alive . aware . presence

Miriam Louisa Simons - Breathscribe series: I am here, detail

 

This year
on the day they call Christmas
Team Emelle wakes up
wondrously severed
from its culture’s insidious story
about stars and shepherds
wise men, stables and saviours.

 

Team Emelle is curiously deaf
to the seductive calls
of collective consciousness
to make of this date something special.
It greets the day with a deep bow,
celebrating its everyday sanctity
with gratitude and wonderment.

 

It tends the Great Light
known as Primordial Wisdom Awareness
(as befits its Dharma name, Yeshe)
with its own private rituals
custom-created
on its unique journey
through time’s long now.

 

It tends creation’s original Word
by sitting,
breathing,
in solitary, silent, stillness.
Breath is its prayer
and its practice.
Breath.

 

It tends the manger
in the Heart’s stable
– the soul’s sanctuary –
where the ever newly-born,
uncorrupted
Child
dwells in comfort and safety.

 

Team Emelle doesn’t buy
into the marketplace mindset.
It knows of only one present sure
to give happiness and joy,
one (omni)present that can’t be bought,
wrapped, given or owned…

 

a l i v e  .  a w a r e  .  p r e s e n c e

 


Artwork by Miriam Louisa Simons – Breathscribe series: I am here, detail.

Since the Miriam Louisa composite is made up of of many characters, to say nothing of 37.2 trillion cells and a roughly equal population of bacteria, I have come to think of it as Team Emelle.
Emelle = ML
ML = Miriam Louisa
All smiling and bowing at you right now!


Primordial Wisdom Awareness is also known as The Great Perfection


all bugged up : breathing in…

 

Echoes from Emptiness - Yeshe Tsogyal

 

breathing in

I smile

[lungs rattling, terrorist bugs at war with antibiotics, cough like a dying camel,
green goo by the spittoon-full, aching chest, watery eyes]

 

breathing out

I smile

[silence, stillness, serenity, pristine perfect, incorruptible, immovable,
unknowable Awareness – – – utterly unaffected]

 

breathing in, breathing out

being breathed

and

being bugged

 

I smile

 


Image source

A deep bow to my Dharma namesake and inspiration, Yeshe Tsogyal


having a ‘whoops!’ moment, again

 

awakening from sleep

awareness arrays a new-born world

splashes face

gropes for zafu

settles butt, folds legs

inhales the fragrant flowering gums

chuckles with the kookaburra

trembles with the palm fronds

sips steaming green tea

disappears into a silence

that senses every tone and texture

 

breathes – is breathed

marvels, that

not one scientist, philosopher or sage

can explain how any of this can possibly occur

on an exquisite pulsing rock

awhirl in a numinous space –

 

a space inseparable from

the immense, immeasurable awareness

in which it all appears

 

Echoes from Emptiness: earth from space

 


Image source – Parallax


stark naked on my trusty zafu

345

anything to report?

.

metaphorically stark naked
on my trusty zafu

just a couple of breaths
between mind’s madness
and immaculate stillness

there is

only

this pristine awareness
aware-ing

only this
unnameable Word
penetrating, embracing, enfolding
forming and transforming

loving without measure
or condition

only this
bright inescapable benediction

oh Lover!

~

the turning

336

I saw the tide turn

saw, at that miraculous moment of turning
a kind of confusion,
currents eddying this way and that,
wetness caught in chaos

then, the inexorable pull
of the deep’s great breath
took hold and without further murmur
a rush of indigo satin streamed to the sea

and the watercolor portrayal
of a heart’s return
to its source and sustenance
was not lost on me

~

my breath flows like shakuhachi-speak

220

the rain continues its benediction:

perfume of parched earth receiving lifeblood

chorale of baptized birds fluffing in gratitude

pearlgrey skies
raindarkened gums
glistening puddles
happy toadlets
dancing raindrops
palms in pranam

soft gentling pattering music that somehow blends
with the singing silver silence
flowing through mindspace,
smoothing and soothing

ahhhh…
my breath flows
like shakuhachi-speak
and I reach for the brush…

.

rainbreathbreathscribe series
light-reflective acrylic on textured canvas

~

tracing the unborn I

215

I write 27-01-44 when asked for my date-of-birth, yet the Life that took ‘first breath’ that day was never born.

It’s not exactly rocket science to come to this conclusion; one just follows the tracks of the genealogists a little further than the norm.

Where did the Life that animates this breath have its beginning?

How can I claim it began in this body-mind cocoon, fruit of the sexual activity of two other body-mind cocoons, whose unique genetic and phylogenetic imprints were systematically combined and passed on?  Or was it in the imprints of their parents?  Or their grandparents?  Or their great-grandparents?

The Life that animates each one of us harks back to the first cell-division.  We share ancestry.  We go back to the One.  We share – we are – Creation’s initial impulse to forge the miracle of existence from the void.

Time to put down the pen; this is all starting to sound too Biblical for a baby-boomer.

~