nondual perception

the sea was grievous grey

Photo - Tropical Dusk by Carol Brandt

 

the sea was grievous grey
under a sky of blushing coral

and as I breathed these hues
they morphed, and I saw

sky and sea melt seamlessly into
a monotone quietude of greyness

I stopped in my tracks, my toes alerted
to the change underfoot – it was as if

compelled by some cosmic cue
the teeming sand crabs had disappeared

my antennae reached beyond the sigh
of the wavelets’ lapping and heard

the chorus of feathered critters fall
silent for the night

I stood with held breath, seduced, suffused,
by the immensity of the moment
wondering
how fulfilment could possibly
be fuller
than in an earth-instant
truly noticed

 

Photo credit – another stunner from my friend Carol Brandt. A different beach; same tones, same mood.

the morning star rises

330

Echoes from Emptiness: the morning star rising

.
a raucous rooster calls up the light –
first, softest indigo melts the blackness
into an orb of welcoming then
the morning star rises

it climbs eagerly,
sometimes obscured by indistinct forms
silent shadowy cut-outs set
against the backdrop blanket of dawning

as it pulls free of the forest canopy
and sails into vastness overhead
the trees trace out their silent shapes
against the lightening horizon

kookaburra cackles in approval,
but it will be a while yet before
the rest of the beaky choir peek out
from cozy wing-tuck to welcome the new day

I’m at point zero on the zafu
eyes and ears on full alert,
senses unfurled, unfolded
naked

being
the unknowable knowingness
of Life’s ceaseless
display

and recalling
that over two thousand years ago
a man called Gautama
saw this star rising
in exactly the same

way

yes, but …

314

being seeing is being peace

yes, but who is “being seeing”?
no one, only the beingness of sensorial perception
– some folk would call it primordial awareness

yes, but who is “being peace”?
no one, only the beingness of choiceless awareness
– some folk would call it pure consciousness

yes, but “who is”?
no one, only all-that-is, right-now, right-here
– some folk would call it simple suchness

~

naked knowingness needs no witness

305

liquidly shimmering spider webs
diamante dewdrops sparkling on long tangled grass
long, deep shadows thrown by still-sleepy shrubbery

currawong calling up the day

delicious saturation of greens under cerulean
cool, fresh lightning-charged air
billowing lace drapes…

.

naked knowingness needs no witness;
it simply recognizes itSelf
wherever
it casts
its net of perception

~

our innate longing for intimacy

299

Many folk express the longing to be able to draw or paint some-thing.  They long to faithfully render a beloved face, or a favorite object, or the marvel of a landscape.  Or, with the plethora of photographic devices now available, they eagerly capture moments both miraculous and mundane.

Might this have something to do with our innate longing for seamless intimacy with that apparent object or experience, with longing to know it, to be it, on the other side of conceptualization, categorizing, labeling?

.

unknowable knowingness

nothing that can be contained, it flows and ebbs;
calls itself perception or consciousness or awareness
or life or grace or destiny or God

the ‘ten thousand things’ are its toys –
its appearances rising and falling
wherever It casts its sensory antennae

is it not the ultimate
seamless intimacy?

~