from where I’m looking

349

The sky is powder blue and cloudless.

Like a cartoon cut-out
defiant against the celestial foreverness
stands a tall straight palm,
its huge bracts lavishly festooned with nectar berries –
breakfast au plein air for birds, beetles, insects.

High above the bracts,
the palm fronds erupt into a wild dance
celebrating – as though their lives depended on it.

Behind the palm and the security fence
the surface of the swimming pool is tickled
by the quirky breeze.  It trembles.

Nodding demurely by its edge
clusters of coral bougainvillea
saturate the eye with impossible tropical color.

This is ‘n’ – the thusness of now-this-here
in which quivers of yearning
and shudders of aversion
find no place.

Everything, everything
exists as ubiquitous Presence
presenting Itself to Itself.

Just so.

~

never will you meet such an unapologetic narcissist

343

I settle on my zafu
poised as the Presence
of a world displayed –
a world whose appearance
is wholly dependent upon
the sensory capacity
here, yet without location
anywhere

I marvel that after turning up
for more than 300 mornings,
pen-in-hand and heart-at-the-ready,
words still spill themselves
out of the silent emptiness
on the other side of thought
as fresh and fecund as on day
one

There is no author here –
my authorship could never sustain such
freshness for even a fortnight.
I’d bore myself to tears and quickly move on.

Wild wideawakeness is simply singing
soulfully
to itself in the mirror.

A small hand
holding an old-fashioned Waterman fountain pen
scribbles the opening libretto:

Everywhere I look
I see
laid out in luscious
lu-mi-no-si-ty
the miracle
of unknowable
Me!

I’m cracking up at the audacity when out of nowhere a gleeful chorus pipes up:

It’s a new dawn
it’s a new day
it’s a new life for Me
and I’m feelin’ good!*

[Never will you meet such an unapologetic narcissist!]

~

*from Feeling Good, by Peter Schick

wondrous wild wonderment!

337

Jolted from slumber by a crawing crow competing with a kookaburra trio,
I sit in this little tent
watching the sky turn from quiet grey to pearl shot with apricot

The tide rides high, the water gleams like stretched silk

Big fish leap out of their watery homeland, soar into the
dangerously dry habitat of airborne breakfast-morsels
and plop! home again

 

Echoes from Emptiness: Australian Pelican

 

A pelican floats effortlessly, silently, past my perch,
and more noisily, the motor boats of small-time fishermen go by

And now there’s a deeper thrum, slower and more powerful:
the big yellow fishing boat that went out last evening returns to port,
a dozen seagulls swirling hungrily over its decks

The pelican is oblivious;
diving for some fishy morsel then surfacing,
it throws its huge pink beak open and up, and swoosh, down goes breakfast

In every direction, through every sense-portal,
the unknowable knowingness of awareness spreads itself in lavish abundance

Everything is inside IT and no-thing is outside of IT – oh

wondrous

wild

wonderment!


Image source


the dawning sky is the coral of a persimmon’s blush

327

the great view is seeing
as the I-eye
of primordial awareness

the great understanding is knowing
as the unknowable knowingness
of simple suchness

the great adventure is living
as the untutored creativity
of wild wideawakeness

~

here I is!

326

Earth’s summer breath embraces the coolness of the pre-dawn atmosphere and for an hour or so reveals itself as soft mistiness. Through the big trees camellia blooms are showing pinkly; there’s a tree covered in huge scarlet trumpets and another clothed in a purple so intense it could explode:

Echoes from Emptiness: Jacaranda in full bloom, NSW, Australia

 

I sees but does not watch

I hears but does not listen

I feels but does not touch

I tastes but does not eat

I smells but does not inhale

I is freedom without the ‘from’

I perceives but doesn’t conceptualize

I has never been born and can never die

I is the still, silent, ubiquitous point at the centre of the spinning world

I has never believed one single belief nor thought one thought nor made one choice

I is amoral, innocent, unconditioned intelligence which has nothing to do with intellect

I is joy without cause

I is love without object

I is what one is
and what all sentient beings are
bottom-line,
fundamental,
I-ness
I-ing

 

(as the perfect purple of a Jacaranda bloom)


Image source