dear disappointment

 
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.
 

Echoes from Emptiness - Johannes Vermeer: A Lady Writing, detail

 

dear disappointment

 

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
called “me-myself-mine”
excising my every erudite question
leaving no trace –

 

not even a shadow of ‘understanding’
survives

 

nothing
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
untrue
and all there is to do is giggle
at this glorious ever-unfurling
suchness

 

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?

 

take me!
oh have me so completely
that true vulnerability is birthed

 

yours

 

truly

 

. . .


Image: Johannes Vermeer: A Lady Writing, detail.

Source – Artmight.com


life boils down to a cup of tea

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By the wondrous old age of 90 both my parents have seen enough of life to know that it unfolds according to its own agenda.  Having been through a zillion shatterings and upliftings, they quietly confess that nothing much turned out the way they thought it would or wished it might.  They like to say that everything in Life happens of its own accord.

To say “of its own accord” is another way of saying “by Grace” – and we can’t understand either the cosmic laws that orchestrate “happenings” or the dynamic of “Grace.”  But we can have fun with concepts, while keeping the difference between concept and Reality in view.

My concept of Grace:  active, dynamic, non-local information/intelligence.  Primal Power.

My concept of Life:  unborn, unmoving, immeasurable Primal Potential.

Without Grace, Life remains impotent.

Visual concept:  Life’s omniscient and omnipresent Potential sit at the two corners of a triangle’s baseline, and Grace – omnipotence – forms the apex, transforming the connecting lines into form and unleashing creative energy.

When I show this bunch of concepts to the aged wise ones, they simply smile and make a cup of tea.

~

grace supports sunyata-addicts

270

Moving-out day today.  With the carrier coming at 8am and the body exhausted, it hardly seemed possible that I’d wake early enough to sit.  (No, I don’t use techno-aids to awaken.)

How interesting then, to be woken up on the dot of 5am by the merry tinsel-town tune of the door-chimes!

Particularly interesting, since they are still disconnected and this time there are no electrical storms around.

That ‘fickle finger of fate’, a-k-a Grace, has been over-riding mere physicality again.  It seems to support sunyata-addicts.  It’ll do anything, anything, to wake one up from the big dream.  Hmmm, that feels pretty nice, if a touch scary.

~

the best way forward is sometimes to stop

265

It was on the eve of a new year that she-who-scribbles sat in the throne room at the rainforest monastery and asked any deities who might be lurking and listening to reveal the way ahead.

What happened?  Nothing.  Empty spacious silence roared through the room.  An hour or so later the gong sounded for lunch.

.

.

En route back to her room, her right knee – the location of an old injury – exploded into a fury of crippling pain that would take six months to heal and would eventually need surgery.

Quite literally, she was knee-capped by the universe: 2002 was the year of the big bang!

Hobbled and humbled, it wasn’t long before what had happened in the knee played itself out in the brain.

Gratitude to all those deities, the non-local ones, who couldn’t help but be lurking and listening, and who couldn’t help but help.

Lesson:  The best way forward is sometimes to stop.  If one can’t or won’t, no problem.  Grace will step in and sort it.

~

image source: Chenrezig Monastery, Eudlo, Queensland

snakes and ladders and heaven and hell

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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 …

~