On the first day of a new month in New Zealand we used to say “rabbits” before uttering any other words. I have no idea why rabbits – but it was considered bad luck to forget!
I’m on the other side of the Tasman on this first morning of a new month. And I think of those ‘Kiwi’ rabbits as I watch a huge hare feeding in the field outside Bliss Cottage.
There he sits, utterly present, ears poised, munching, washing his face with deft paws, then rubbing those paws together whilst perched on his powerful hind legs, turning to each of the four directions one by one. He’s a creature wholly at one with his habitat.
The mountain is still rain-cloud shrouded with pale shafts of sunlight breaking through, but hare doesn’t seem to care. The fresh grass growth is juicy and moist with ever-present mist. He just gets on with hare-ing naturally in here and now.
Hare. And. Now.
Image: Copyright Austin Thomas
is the body of beingness
yours, mine, and all the appearances taking the verb
it never moves yet it contains all that changes
have you found that which never changes?
that which never moves?
that which never knows, labels or holds a belief about anything?
find that – it’s closer than your next thought
and Totality will at last embrace ITself
How delicious to at last relax, in sweet acceptance of the old dopey dreamer ‘me’ – warts, willfullness and all…
It’s the wrong word, as usual – acceptance – for this has nothing to do with any kind of action by a doer.
first there was awareness of mis-‘I’-dentification,
then there was oceanic ‘I’-dentification,
now there’s only now and this and here
and in the vast One-ness of just-so-ness,
plenty of room for dopes like me!
This body-mind rests as unwavering happiness.
How can that be so?
There’s a mangled knee, and surgery tomorrow.
There’s midge and mozzie mayhem.
There’s a stiff spine from a strange posture
held overlong in the studio …
Yet suchness equals happiness.
Who could fret about pain,
worry about surgery,
fuss over insect bites,
complain of a sore back
when every detail of every scenario
is simply what-is?
Without a hint of negation
aversion or denial
I fail to find any owner.
This body-mind rests as unwavering happiness
and that happiness, too,
is simply what-is.
Without a hint of desire
preference or aspiration
I fail to find any owner.
How I craved silence; how I loved the deafening silence of mountaintop, ocean depth, uninhabited desert.
It was a fix for my mercurial mind,
a de-frag for the neocortex.
In the suchness of this Life, another Silence is now present.
It has nothing to do with noise
Abiding in, from, – no – as that silence
is living in a boundless space
where noise and no-noise meet no resistance.
Falling asleep again seems to be common enough in the early stages of the mindshift. But the fact that the dreamer eventually – via the presence of weird discomfort – remembers awake-ness, is evidence that apperception of the Truth has occurred. The energy pattern called brain has changed irrevocably.
The tracks of the past are deep ruts; the partner (if there’s one), the old friends, are still identified with their stories, and they still feature in the daily life of the one-who-remembers. Their stories of feelings, needs, desires, meanings, are revisited on cue. There’s potential distraction in this, for sure.
But if I think I don’t want to be caught in this soporific trap; if I chastise myself for having fallen for it all, again; if I feel I want to be rid of everything that triggers somnolence … I stop and reach for my precious little sanity-saving question:
ummmm . . . who owns that thought?
and maybe another ummmm . . . who owns that thought?
ahhhhhh . . . no one can be found!
How sweet it is, to be just what-is!
The days draw out. Two full-moons ago the sun’s ascent was blocked by the lillypilly hedge. Now it marches up from the ranks of the tall eucalypts, searing my face with its sharp rays and it’s not yet 06.30 on the clock.
the coming, the going
the appearing, disappearing
the in-breath, out-breath
the being, the not-being
only this inconceivable