incomparably perfect love

275

clamorous sea-speak this morning

for one who grew up amongst the coastal cliffs
the tussock-crowned dunes
the tidal pools
the crashing surf and wild symphonic joy
of the ocean inexplicably called Pacific

“there’s bound to be a salt-wave forever lapping in the heart”

.

she-who-scribbles loves water;
inescapable conditioning of the cells

.

and ‘I’?

well, ‘I’ has no preferences

and that means It embraces everything:

incomparably perfect Love!

~

oil slicks on oceanic mind

268

Creativity cuts through a pattern of thought that has become habitual and reflexive.  Yesterday there was the freight train analogy; today – an oceanic oil slick comes to mind.

Habitual patterns of thought are like oil slicks on the surface of oceanic mind.

Oil slicks can be exquisitely patterned.  The patterns are complex and colorful; they can rearrange themselves in endless variations.  Attractive and seductive – yet how lethal when spread over the living, breathing, ecosystem of an earth ocean!

Mental oil slicks operate in the same suffocating manner.  They contain only one component – the output of the conditioned memory machine.

And in the manner of an earthly ocean, when oceanic mind stirs up a storm (with a few fearless questions), crashing waves and spray break up the oil slick.

Even if the break is only temporary, Creation will have had a say.

Creativity will have surfaced.

~

how to dissolve a dragon

243

If a plant that thrives in temperate zones is placed under the tropical sun it doesn’t take long to die.  If a creature that thrives in temperate zones is brought to the steaming tropics it will try to run away.  Yet if a human that thrives in temperate zones finds itself in those tropical climes it will often force itself to adapt with a barrage of shoulds, oughts, musts, and air-conditioning.

Conflict may seem to be resolved in the mind but the body silently suffers.  The evidence is visible all around: lethargy alcoholism substance-abuse obesity skin-cancer depression … and the root of all this suffering?  The dragon – the one described so well by Joseph Campbell as the dragon whose every scale bears the dictum: THOU SHALT!

The secret sword that slays the dragon is the question: WHO SHALT?

Who is the one who must adapt? And who says so? Dragons are notoriously difficult to find, yet they dissolve in the mirror-light of Awareness.  The conditioning that constructs them vaporizes.  No ‘shalts’ survive.  It’s all a matter of fearless eye-balling.

~

fierce grace visits

230

What I notice when amnesia sneaks in and I begin again to claim doer-ship and control over tomorrow, doggedly pushing on, blindly following the ruts of conditioning and posing as supreme controller, is this:

Something happens to bring me back,
and, probably because I’m a gritty goer,
it happens to my body.

(Arm gets rms: can’t scribble or type,
back goes out: can’t stand at easel,
knee explodes: can’t move.)

Something makes me stop, sit, shut-up
and free-fall yet again
into the what-is of this life I call mine.

That ‘something’ is what I know as Grace.
It’s usually fierce.  Definitely not fluffy.

I’ve learned to love it as my most treasured Beloved,
for it returns me to ITself.

~

robotic rock-head stubbornness

207

As soon as the sweaty arms of daylight reach over the horizon, the hard-nosed kookaburra begins to attack a neighbor’s window.

It knows that food magically appeared from behind that glass in the past – perhaps in its genetic past, for certainly not since I’ve been living nearby.  He’s driven by his unconscious conditioning.

No food comes.

The only thing forthcoming is the unit owner’s abuse.  Yet the big grinning bird bashes on, head like a rock.

I feel for him.  I know that robotic rock-head stubbornness only too well.

~

Image source:  Wild Witch Graphics

something silent watches

195

tic-toc

An uncontrollable nervous repetitive twitch in the eye area is called a ‘tic’.

Living one’s miraculous livingness in tic-toc mode is similarly repetitive and twitchy – knee-jerk responses dominate the day.  There’s an absolute abdication to conditioning. The gears and pulleys of thinking merrily toil on; the default ‘doer’ dreams its version of the dream and claims all credit for itself, while blame, natch, belongs elsewhere.

For some this way of being-a-life works fine – in their opinion it’s non-negotiable.  No worries.  Yet.

For others it’s dysfunctional and causes inexplicable discontent:  “Is this all there is?”

In every sentient soul something silent watches, and when ripeness is ripe IT pulls the lynch-pin right out of the works.  Nothing whatsoever changes to the Changeless.  But tic-toc mode is history.

No more habitude!  No more sleepwalking through the miracle of one’s life!

~