surfer chick

 

Echoes from Emptiness: tunnel surfer

 

I’ve been there
crouched low,
riding a tunnel wave

but it wasn’t in that
rolling roaring wetness

it was in this
silent
unfathomable
ocean of Being

 

imagine my amazement
to discover – here
in this human form –
an aging amphibious
void-surfer

 


Image source unknown – if it’s yours, please advise!


tracing the unborn I

215

I write 27-01-44 when asked for my date-of-birth, yet the Life that took ‘first breath’ that day was never born.

It’s not exactly rocket science to come to this conclusion; one just follows the tracks of the genealogists a little further than the norm.

Where did the Life that animates this breath have its beginning?

How can I claim it began in this body-mind cocoon, fruit of the sexual activity of two other body-mind cocoons, whose unique genetic and phylogenetic imprints were systematically combined and passed on?  Or was it in the imprints of their parents?  Or their grandparents?  Or their great-grandparents?

The Life that animates each one of us harks back to the first cell-division.  We share ancestry.  We go back to the One.  We share – we are – Creation’s initial impulse to forge the miracle of existence from the void.

Time to put down the pen; this is all starting to sound too Biblical for a baby-boomer.

~

this emptiness is singing with life

123

pre-dawn paradise:
a softness in the shadowy light
slimmest sliver of peach in the east
kookaburra’s cackle piercing
the expectant marvel
called world

~

problems and concerns
issues and causes
that used to be upfront in mind
are weirdly absent
noticeably not-happening

the space they vacated is sometimes called the void
but there’s nothing null about it
no vacancy, no gut-gripping nihilism

this Emptiness is singing with life,
pregnant with potential

I cast about for a concept
and this falls out of my pen:
it’s the womb of all Creation

~