whatever It is

Echoes from Emptiness - Black Hole 7 by Fabian Oefner


whatever It is
that delivers these words
(unreachable by mind’s intent)
through this form

that’s what I pray to


whatever It is
that cracks open this heart
(circumventing mind’s cynicism)
to bathe me in bliss

that’s what I call love


whatever It is
that heals this weary wounded body
(unaided by any out-sourced effort)
restoring it while I sleep, oblivious

that’s what I hold sacred


whatever It is
that births and sustains creation
(immeasurable by mind’s technologies)
unfindable, yet apparent wherever my senses alight

that’s what I bow down to


whatever It is
that is moved by grace
(which is just another word for the unwordable)
to pray, to bow, to melt into the sacred

that’s whatever It is

entertaining Itself


Image credit: Fabian Oefner

a willingness to disappear


analyze and adapt
diagnose and dialogue
formulate and fix
trance, track, tap:
so many ways to place
patches on the pain
of fragmentation

we call it healing
and invent new modalities by the minute
to ease the symptoms, which also
multiply by the minute, fattening the catalogue
of official psychological disorders

but until the trickster called time
is exposed and deposed
our little healings are just brief remissions
from the ache of incompleteness

to heal is to make whole

that’s why the true sages carry no band-aids
but go straight to the root of fragmentation
– time –
conjurer of the ‘me’-mirage
with its default sense of separation
and its insatiable appetite for union

they know that the ending of time
restores immeasurable wholeness
– no faith, no belief, no training required

only a willingness to disappear
into now and this and here


whatever IT is, it gets my deepest bows of speechless gratitude


This brain, that was shut down with anesthetic restores itself, miraculously, to crystal clear functioning.  This body, that was a beating corpse on a surgical slab has slept soundly and arises refreshed, resurrected.  This knee, that was entered through four small portals, explored with a magical eye on the end of a probe, excavated to remove four large ‘foreign objects’ and flushed out to remove the smaller bits, rests happily on a plumped-up cushion.  The swelling and soreness subside with each new day.  Healing is happening.

How incredible it is that healing just happens.  Sure, it’s often facilitated by the intervention of surgeons, care-givers, and others with uncanny gifts (Life’s lovely helpers.)  But who can truthfully claim that they ‘do it?’

Whatever the inconceivable ‘IT’ is that lives this body-mind and knows exactly how to restore its systems to their proper functioning – whatever IT is, it gets my deepest bows of speechless gratitude.  I’d be on my knees – but that will have to wait.


life loves being loved


The hibiscus was sick, struggling, being attacked by sucking and chewing insects.  Once in a while it would open up a spectacular burgundy bloom to the sky, as if sending up a mayday flare.

I tended it with food and water; the predators were transferred elsewhere; infected tips were cut off and it was watched tenderly.  But its home ground was devoid of nourishment – the big tree roots had taken, and continued to take, all the life from the little garden.  Radical change was called for.

Up it came from the wasteland.  Down went its roots into its own prepared pot.  A little reiki for recovery, then it went into intensive care.

Within a week every chewed leaf had turned to a glorious display of bright ginko gold.  It seemed like a gesture of gratitude, for there was no longer any sense that the plant was ill – indeed, it was robust and new green buds were already appearing.

Yet curiously, not all the old tired leaves left the plant.  Some, only a few, remained.

It’s only now that the plant is covered with new leaves and blossom buds that the last of the old ones are dropping off …

Hmmm. Now that’s interesting.  Those old unwanted bits of Beingness clearly serve a purpose.  They fall away in their own good time.

If I am present, watching, listening, Nature answers my every question.  Elegantly, patiently and tenderly.  She loves being loved.


life lives its vast vitality


Natural, deep, dreamless sleep is a miraculous healer.  Any approximation of that ‘state’ during waking hours is a crucial activity of the body-mind.  This is where meditation is such a vital (non)activity.

Life  –  Knowingness, Awareness, Primordial Essence, God, Tao; as you wish  –  is unhampered by the web of confused and conflicting concepts called thought and experienced as self.

IT simply lives ITs vast vitality; runs repairs on the body-mind as necessary, blessedly unimpeded by a ‘doer’ doing anything.


on holes and wholeness and holiness


the word ‘healing’ has its root in the same word as ‘whole’
so it really means ‘to make whole’

the dance appears to go like this:
first you get hole-ing happening
-as when the self you took yourself to be
tumbles back into the hole called emptiness
and dis-integrates –
then a holy window of opportunity opens
and aware-ing makes the shift
that brings it back to Itself
the shift to undivided nondual wholeness
which we label ‘awakening’

and finally
all that’s left is
fully healed
and awake to
its incomprehensible




she who was depressed is nowhere to be found:
looking-without-labeling left only sensation devoid of
owner or sad-sack story

the sensation called “depression” spoke only of
the utter exhaustion of a brain and a body

with the absence of she who was depressed,
(hmmm … make that she who wanted to not be depressed)
it’s crystal clear that the body/brain just wants rest

it just wants story-free peace

it just wants to sink into this womb of gentle healing,
this fountainhead of sweet Grace:


exactly as-it-is!