on the day they call Christmas
Team Emelle wakes up
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
on its unique journey
through time’s long now.
It tends creation’s original Word
in solitary, silent, stillness.
Breath is its prayer
and its practice.
It tends the manger
in the Heart’s stable
– the soul’s sanctuary –
where the ever newly-born,
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
[lungs rattling, terrorist bugs at war with antibiotics, cough like a dying camel,
green goo by the spittoon-full, aching chest, watery eyes]
[silence, stillness, serenity, pristine perfect, incorruptible, immovable,
unknowable Awareness – – – utterly unaffected]
breathing in, breathing out
A deep bow to my Dharma namesake and inspiration, Yeshe Tsogyal
awakening from sleep
awareness arrays a new-born world
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
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
Image source – Parallax
anything to report?
metaphorically stark naked
on my trusty zafu
just a couple of breaths
between mind’s madness
and immaculate stillness
this pristine awareness
penetrating, embracing, enfolding
forming and transforming
loving without measure
bright inescapable benediction
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
the rain continues its benediction:
perfume of parched earth receiving lifeblood
chorale of baptized birds fluffing in gratitude
palms in pranam
soft gentling pattering music that somehow blends
with the singing silver silence
flowing through mindspace,
smoothing and soothing
my breath flows
and I reach for the brush…
rainbreath – breathscribe series
light-reflective acrylic on textured canvas
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.