dear disappointment

Well hello there Disappointment! You’ve been on my mind of late. I’ve been reflecting on how your gracious appearances in my life were usually both misunderstood and unappreciated. And I reckon I owe you an apology. It’s a bit late coming, but since you are surely impervious to expectation I doubt that will bother you too much.

This morning these words lined up unbidden. They made me smile; I thought you might like to read them.

Echoes from Emptiness - Johannes Vermeer: A Lady Writing, detail


dear disappointment


your thumping Grace opened up
a view without a viewer
a life without an agenda
a heart at home in its hallowed holiness


your diamond-edged scalpel
shaved clean the fluff and fantasy
called “me-myself-mine”
excising my every erudite question
leaving no trace –


not even a shadow of ‘understanding’


a phantom could claim as ‘I am’
or even I am not


you turned me towards your ruthless kindness
revealing every betrayal and abuse
every heart-break and aching longing
to be an instant portal
to the eye-popping Knowing
that is unknowable


beyond, so utterly beyond,
where every word is empty, hollow, meaningless
and all there is to do is giggle
at this glorious ever-unfurling


are you not the supreme guide and guru?
is there a faster track to seamless intimacy
with the everyday world of multiplicity?
could there be a greater blessing than your quiet interest
in our stumblings towards the light?


take me!
oh have me so completely
that true vulnerability is birthed






. . .

Image: Johannes Vermeer: A Lady Writing, detail.

Source –

eyes feast on the vastness of ‘I’


a tardy arrival on the cushion today
the sun is already painting luminous shadow-patterns on the grass
and highlighting the fullness and busyness of space:


insects zoom
feathers float
blossoms drop
webs glisten
birds dart
leaves shimmer


eyes feast on the vastness of ‘I’



you want peace?


elongated diamonds of trembling light creep towards my flannel-covered feather duvet. the rising sun has left the lillypilly and soars into open cerulean sky.  a golden finger blesses the ballerina blooms on the cactus, another steals into the little enclosed garden and greets the pond, the tiny ferns and mosses, bestowing enough luminescence to last the day.

peace is not a prospect.  it’s the Presence presenting ITself in this now-moment that has no past or future.  you want peace?  just stop seeking it.  just fall into this Presence, this Beloved, that shines forth from every small corner of the world that you create with your blessed unlit light, with your own vast Viewing.