how could you not love something like that?

I was poking around one of my favourite poetry sites recently and found some of my own lines. They had been sourced from one of my other blogs.
(Sincere nods of gratitude to the curator.)

I had quite forgotten these lines (unsurprising, since you didn’t write them, says Emptiness), and reading them again delights me. Unashamedly. So I’m sharing them here.

 

Echoes from Emptiness: how could you not love something like that?

 

how could you not love something that

never leaves you
regardless of how often you ignore it?

that’s always self-shining –
never needing flint or switch or fuel?

that never changes
regardless of the vicissitudes of your daily experience?

that never takes sides
whatever person, team or nation you’re supporting,
whatever idea or opinion you hold?

that never breaks apart
even though your life appears to?

that never minds
n-e-v-e-r   m-i-n-d-s
that you spend your life running around looking for it
while it’s in your face the whole time?

how could you not love something like that?

something you can never escape,
and that’s so immanent
you are forced to accept it
as your own true identity?

how could you not then love
Y O U R S E L F ?

and everything arising
– thoughts, perceptions, memories, feelings –
within that inconceivable Self?

how could you not love that immensity which precedes
and includes all existence?

how could you not kneel at your own feet
in awe?

 

how could you pretend that your enlightened
heart-driven passion
was not the Great Passion of That
which holds the planets in their orbit?

 

how could you ignore the urge to pour
your energy and attention
into whatever opens your heart?

 

how?

 

– miriam louisa
August 2013


the pointer called passion

179

Whatever you are drawn to do from a sense of inner compulsion, from a sense that may seem irrational or even foolhardy, is precisely what will take you towards the truth of yourself.  It will be your unique version of ‘the finger pointing to the moon.’

The great Life lesson is always the same, always the apperception of what one actually is, via understanding of what one is not.

The events that unfold as you follow the compulsions may turn out to be fortuitous or they may seem to be awful mistakes.  Very often regrets are involved.  But don’t be fooled:  disappointment is the greatest teacher of all.

My passion has always been to create.  What creating taught me was that I-as-artist didn’t exist, which sounds devastating for the ego.  And it was.  But it simultaneously revealed the non-personal truth of the vastness and glory of the life I had, in ignorance, called ‘mine.’

Creativity, if it’s genuine, will always flow from the unknowable and the immeasurable.  If I know what I’m doing I’m not engaged in creativity.  I’m simply rearranging the known.

~