the unborn flower of nothing

 

if you want to know
the Unknowable start by
throwing out the absolute
and the relative and
everything between

and should you be blessed
with the capacity to survive
the free-fall
of your o-so-precious
intellectual infrastructure
into roaring silence
into spaciousness
into stillness

then you’ll know that Knowingness as
“the unborn flower of nothing”
and you’ll be its own soft echo
as it sings its eternal song
to itself

 

Echoes from Emptiness - the unborn flower of nothing

 

Who would dare to go nameless in so secure a universe?
Yet, to tell the truth, only the nameless are at home in it.

They bear with them in the center of nowhere the unborn flower of nothing: 
This is the paradise tree.
It must remain unseen until words end
and arguments are silent.

– Thomas Merton

 


Wishing you all a very Happy New Year. May your life blossom on the paradise tree, fulfilled and at peace in every way. You are so loved!


Image source unknown – if it’s one of yours please let me know so that I can give proper credit.


stark naked on my trusty zafu

345

anything to report?

.

metaphorically stark naked
on my trusty zafu

just a couple of breaths
between mind’s madness
and immaculate stillness

there is

only

this pristine awareness
aware-ing

only this
unnameable Word
penetrating, embracing, enfolding
forming and transforming

loving without measure
or condition

only this
bright inescapable benediction

oh Lover!

~

you won’t find this in iTunes

322

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

~

the still point of the turning world

221

“…the still point of the turning world…” *

What lucid and luscious imagery this collection of small words evokes!

The “still point” is what I refer to as the unknowable dimension called ‘n’ by mathematicians, scientists and the [odd] mystic!

wild wideawakeness – to the n (nth)
now
this
here
is the still point of the turning world

And “the turning world…”?  The world of appearances put together by mental technologies:  perception, languaging; the world of me and mine, others and theirs; the world of time and space, in which it can all tickety-tock along.

~

After the kingfisher’s wing
Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still
At the still point of the turning world.
~ The Four Quartets, Quartet 1 ‘Burnt Norton’ by T. S. Elliot

wouldn’t you want to know?

185

A dear friend calls – a woman who has spent her life on the spiritual path, ceaselessly seeking and serving, and now in her 8th decade.  The power of evil in the world, she says, is too much for her.  She no longer believes in the power of goodness.  She’s contemplating a premature departure.

I sit.  An echo arrives.  It’s not exactly comforting.  It’s an invitation:

Beloved, brave Beingness –

Leave if you wish, but don’t kid yourself that you’ll leave evil behind.

The concepts of evil and its partner, goodness, are inextricably intertwined.  And – they exist only in the thought-system of a perceiver.

Wouldn’t it be a better idea to check out for yourself – before it’s too late – who or what this perceiver is?  Perhaps its information isn’t the full story.  Perhaps it’s making up a story that’s not true.  Wouldn’t you want to know?

Find that perceiver.  Track it to its burrow, feel its terror at being exposed, notice its valid and invalid functions.

Finding, tracking, feeling, noticing … who or what does any of this?  Can it be observed and examined?

It’s possible only if you conceptualize it – turn it into an object to be observed.

But then the hunt begins again, and again … for some-thing that’s just another fragment of the thought-system.

Stop!

What’s left when the mind’s merry-go-round stops?

When the giddiness subsides into stillness?

Beloved! 
~

to awaken is to stop

109

to live is to move:
Life surges, pulses, flows, pushes, wanders, creeps
(just observe nature!)

 

to be is to be determined:
being is Life in movement
dancing the dance of destiny
through the corridors of conditioning
(just observe yourself!)

 

to awaken is to stop:
to stay still
to shut up
to stay silent
long enough
to let Life dance a new dance amongst the neurons

~

 

tripping in the cerebral spaceship

64

giggles this morning

the entertainment?
a dear wee ‘me’ cut-out
sitting in the little lifeboat
christened ‘miriam’
each stroke of the oars a
thought-splash:

pouring green tea into a cup (Kyoto and Edinburgh) scratching left armpit midges and mites and mozzies (The English Lakes and tropical Queensland) melting into coral-washed clouds (India, Kenya, France, Italy…)

around the world, faster than light
in the shimmering luminosity
of a cerebral spaceship

yet no muscle moves
and nothing affects
this oceanic stillness

~