the seeing of It:
the ripples and reflections
the surface and the cool depth
the sun-snatching edges and the calm continuo
the tones, textures, colours
the watching of It:
the naming and the recalling
the emotional embroidery, the visceral memories
(pain and pleasure both flushed my cheeks
on that windswept isle in the Canaries)
the knowing of It:
all that unfolds before, behind, within and throughout me
as this world I call ‘mine’
shimmers fluidly in a center-less, owner-less
I am Not,
but the Universe is my Self.
– Shih-T’ou, A.D. 700-790
Image – swimming pool reflections captured on a long-ago vacation; Lanzarote, Canary Islands
When the penny drops, there’s no way for it
– or its inventor (me/you) – to go back.
It’s not a question of not wanting to,
or of wanting to ‘for the sake of others.’
When the penny drops, the place it drops to is no-where.
And the one who thought up whole penny-idea is awol.
So there’s nobody to go back
and nowhere to go back from or to.
The full impact of this isn’t apparent at first.
It unfolds like a flower: petal by petal.
Watching, one sees the shifts in behavior,
especially in one’s reactions.
One sees the vast liberation that was never-not-present.
One sees the joy that has no cause or meaning.
One sees, but no-one watches.
There is no witness!
Watching sees and that Watching is what One is.