you won’t find this in iTunes


emptiness is ceaselessly singing itself into existence

shhhhhh – if you’re very still and silent
you’ll hear its unstruck sound

in the so and hum of breathtide
and the murmuring pulse of bodybeat

in the spaciousness too vast to be contained
within a bony cranium
you’ll hear the choirs celestial –
the harps, the tinkling bells,
the roaring, flaming om

and you’ll hear it all
without turning an ear

for if you’re curious enough to check it out
you’ll be amazed to find …
the ‘listener’ and that sacred sound
cannot be torn apart


then one fine day … you just crack up


Echoes from Emptiness - Ernst Barlach: Laughing Old Woman

When you come into Jung’s second stage, the last half of life, the quest is for the import of the OM that you’ve heard in the heart chakra, so that it will become the forming and structuring energy of your life, without care for achievement, without care for prestige.
~ Joseph Campbell

She-who-scribbles found that the quest doesn’t end with the finding of – and understanding the significance of – the OM in the heart chakra, although it’s a very pleasant place to take a rest.

The inquiry moves on.  It now asks, what ‘hears’ the OM in the heart chakra?  What is this slippery subject that seems to be aware of all this questing and OM-ing?  Why can’t it observe itself no matter how cunningly it’s stalked?  Why, when it can’t ever be avoided or escaped, can it never be known?

Then one fine day you’re sitting with these questions alone refusing to accept the answers of another no matter how reputedly awake and the penny drops right through the works and takes the questions with it and you just crack up guffawing.  OM-G.

Image: Sculpture by Ernst Barlach, 1937, bronze, 20.8 x 30.96 x 12.38, Los Angeles County Museum of Art 


simple suchness, seamlessly known


Morning report:

a window opening onto pristine West Australian bush
marri, jarrah, blackboy and karri
the skies are pastel blue and wisped with white
a tremble of airbreath tickles the treetops
pet lambs, hungry for breakfast, bleat
a rooster crows
red-tailed black cockatoos screech
tiny blue wrens chitter-chatter

OM broadcasts its beat through my body
and through the body of the universe

wild awakeness
is simply simple suchness
seamlessly known


immersed in an ommm-ing ocean



flooded with lorrikeet-language,
with crow-craw and the chatter
of feathered friends



twinkling, sunbright morning
whitewashed sky
behind gold-tipped gums



on my cushion, sleepy-eyed
body breathing in and out
immersed in an ommm-ing ocean:


creation’s nameless name