the profound peace that flows
into the space left vacant
when the ‘doer’ is seen for what it is
ie –merely a commonly-held, mistaken point-of-view–
is the very peace so long sought by that doer
it’s a cool drink of pure water
on a stifling summer’s day
it’s a down doona on a chilly night
it’s the quiet rapture of relaxation
into great silence and stillness
it passes all understanding
and yet it is sensed and shared
by every critter and creature
every trembling leaf and bud
what else could it be
but the movement of Life’s livingness?
there’s a man’s voice
there’s merry whistling
there’s ceaseless traffic
doves are calling
songbirds are singing
there’s a screen door slamming
there’s a white car passing by
there’s a stooped woman, hurrying
the palm fronds are trembling
green tea steams in this raku cup
a fountain pen scribbles
there’s a body beating
there’s the singing silence of this stillness
which is the source and substance of all sound
[this post is a duplicate of the ‘about’ page]
A small, weary, middle-aged woman sits on a zafu. She is hobbled by an old injury that will soon require surgery. She is thousands of miles from her work, her colleagues, her friends and her sangha. Her brilliant life is reduced to ashes.
She is withdrawn but not sorrowful for she accepts her circumstances, and she deeply loves the two sweet friends – her parents – she has crossed the world to care for in their ancient age.
She has inquired deeply into life’s mysteries and questions. She has been blessed to be taught and mentored by great spiritual souls. The zafu is her friend.
She stops, perforce. She sits. She stays. This time there is no escape.
She enters Emptiness.
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