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
The backyard Butcherbird was first up this morning. It was still quite dark when the trills of its morning overture sounded outside the sanctuary. Now he (or is it she?) is standing on the bird-bath. It’s the young one, so probably it has yet to learn that Willy Wagtail bathes first. There will be scolding, for sure.
Blessed rain has fallen over the holiday weekend: heaven for the locals with their parched gardens, hell for the holiday-makers in their sodden tents.
There’s not one thing in the world of phenomena that isn’t potentially either heaven or hell. Once things are split up into me and not-me, good and bad, right or wrong, the Game begins.
It reminds me of the ‘Snakes and Ladders’ dice game we played as kids. Back then there was the innocent thrill of whether chance would see one gobbled by a snake or saved by a ladder on the way to the finishing point. The adult version sees us clambering up the ladders chasing pleasure and being gobbled by disappointment when life doesn’t oblige; perhaps we should rename the board, and call it The Grace Game …
Whatever you are drawn to do from a sense of inner compulsion, from a sense that may seem irrational or even foolhardy, is precisely what will take you towards the truth of yourself. It will be your unique version of ‘the finger pointing to the moon.’
The great Life lesson is always the same, always the apperception of what one actually is, via understanding of what one is not.
The events that unfold as you follow the compulsions may turn out to be fortuitous or they may seem to be awful mistakes. Very often regrets are involved. But don’t be fooled: disappointment is the greatest teacher of all.
My passion has always been to create. What creating taught me was that I-as-artist didn’t exist, which sounds devastating for the ego. And it was. But it simultaneously revealed the non-personal truth of the vastness and glory of the life I had, in ignorance, called ‘mine.’
Creativity, if it’s genuine, will always flow from the unknowable and the immeasurable. If I know what I’m doing I’m not engaged in creativity. I’m simply rearranging the known.