wholeness

wholly whole and holy

ma deva padma - existence

 

So.  Here we are.  Sitting upon our lotus-leaf

pondering the paradox

that there is no inner and outer to this experience

of exist-ing.

Not only is the fabric of our being

felted from the Primordial Awareness we can’t

escape,

but every appearance we consider

‘other’

is similarly ex-pressed from that source.

And if there’s no inside/outside,

no this/that

no me/other

it means this:

there’s nowhere to hide

 

We love to think that our quiet denial

of the pain too unspeakable to countenance,

is safely hidden from view.

 

Or, and this is more common,

we are no longer aware of it

as it vibrates below the limn

of our consciousness.

 

Perhaps we stitch together satisfying stories about

our awakened understanding.

(Or the absence thereof.)

Yet in moments of self-honesty we can see:

our scars go before us

laying out the trajectory of our lives.

 

Every stitch in the tapestry

of our magnificent ‘me’

is displayed across the cosmos.

 

All is known.

Because there’s nowhere for anything

to hide.

 

This is exquisite.

It’s a realisation that throws open the possibility

that the wound we have spent a lifetime

avoiding, can become the catalyst

for an unimaginable new View.

 

How come?

 

No inside/outside, remember?

No separation, remember?

Only One immeasurable inconceivable Whole is happening.

It’s like an eyeless eye.

 

It

knows Itself

intimately, lovingly

in all the discarded, denied details

of our every wound,

every misdeed and regret,

every choked-back emotion,

every failure to love…

 

and still It loves us

nourishes

holds

and

lives us

 

so

 

how could we not be safe?

we can come out

we can stand up

we can own up

we can shine

 

wholly whole and holy

 

 

Sorry to shout.   But this matters.  Evidence of unintegrated primal pain is displayed for all to see across our world at this time.  Imagine what the scene would be like if emotionally mature grown-ups were carrying the best interests of humanity forward, rather than beings frozen at the age of three?  This is probably as close as I will ever come to making a political statement.

 

Image copyright Ma Deva Padma, Existence, from the Osho Zen Tarot

you will not be missed

Photograph by Andy Ilachinski

 

You will not be missed by Life

– you,

a minuscule synapse in Its immeasurable web

of pulsing intelligence.

 

Yet, if you stumble wideawake into that synaptic self-

less identity – against all odds,

turning away from all cultured data-input –

Life will support you in unimaginable ways

(you will speak of Grace, you will kneel in awe)

as you flow the info-field for the fulfilment

of Its One Uncaused Thought

 

Make no mistake

you will not be missed by Life, ever.

The nano-speck of measurable matter

known by your good name

will be recycled to beneficent use

in the interest of the

Holy Whole.

 

You will not be missed by Life

Beloved

because you can never go missing,

even when you pretend to die.

 

Image by photographer and physicist Andy Ilachinski

See more of Andy’s fine work on one of my other blogs – the awakened eye

Synapse?

a willingness to disappear

363

analyze and adapt
diagnose and dialogue
formulate and fix
trance, track, tap:
so many ways to place
kiss-it-better
patches on the pain
of fragmentation

we call it healing
and invent new modalities by the minute
to ease the symptoms, which also
multiply by the minute, fattening the catalogue
of official psychological disorders

but until the trickster called time
is exposed and deposed
our little healings are just brief remissions
from the ache of incompleteness

to heal is to make whole

that’s why the true sages carry no band-aids
but go straight to the root of fragmentation
– time –
conjurer of the ‘me’-mirage
with its default sense of separation
and its insatiable appetite for union

they know that the ending of time
restores immeasurable wholeness
– no faith, no belief, no training required

only a willingness to disappear
into now and this and here

~

hell is thinking other people are other

276

Sartre was right: Hell is other people.

I don’t know enough about the man or his play to be sure that he was right for the right reason.

But I do know that whenever ‘others’ enter one’s life-play, the split from wholeness has happened, meaning, a ‘me’ has morphed.

Most readers of Sartre take the “hell” of “other people” to be their capacity to annoy or frustrate one.

But it seems to me that hell is the capacity of the imagined ‘me/myself’ to annoy and frustrate itself by turning the equally imagined ‘others’ into victimizers or objects of desire, or those who must be pleased with me and like me, regardless of the cost to body, happiness and sanity.

In other words, turning them into stories.

.

And then believing it’s all true and real.

~

whole and holy! halleluiah!

266

The penny slipped through a crack in the basket-case I used to take for ‘me’.  It fell, spinning like a dervish – one side chasing the other in the cosmic dance of dualism.  And eventually, obeying the laws of entropy, it ran out of momentum and stopped.

It came to rest in the Real, the changeless,
where both its sides are equally true and valid.

It came to rest in the Real, which had been its home all along,
and it knew as much.

It knew it had never,
in spite of all its spinning and spending,
ever for one nanosecond left the Real,
because the Real is one without a second,
the Real is all there is,
the Real is totality, wholeness.
Whole!  Holy!

What a gobsmacker to realize that the two-sided penny called duality,
with all its stories, is inseparable from the Real.
Neither is the basket-case.

All Holy!  Halleluiah!

~

life embraces ITself and knows ITself as Beloved

116

The divine logic of undivided Wholeness flowers and ripens in its own way, in its own time.  IT cannot be taught or bestowed.  There are no maps, no paths, no secret initiations or alchemical formulae that can reveal ITs reality – they serve only to divert One away from the breath-taking simplicity of what is being sought.

Perhaps this explains my lifelong discomfort with all forms of proselytizing and mission-work.  It has always been intuited that when ripeness is ready, Grace presents all that is needed for the flowering of understanding and clarity.

 

Life ‘lives’ this life
as IT lives all Life
according to ITs own
incomprehensible agenda.

And once One ‘sees’ that Life ITself
is One’s true identity,
One knows the true identity
of all the apparent ‘others.’

This is the end of separation –
Life embraces ITself
and knows ITself as Beloved.

~

 

where can a split be found in the fabric of life?

110

The sea is sighing this morning.
Its murmur is the continuo that cradles the voices of my sangha-souls:

– brisk yap of startled dog

– honk of ibis, strutting on stilts

– warble of magpies’ morning choir practice

– chatter of pink galas, busy on newly-greened grass

– laughter of lorikeets taking breakfast in the scarlet bottlebrush

– beachside, the cackle of kookaburras hunting crabs…

Pink and white oleanders show off under the big gums and a huge sulphur-crested cockatoo paints a streak of white as it swoops across the park, suddenly silencing the sangha with its raucous shriek.  They listen, poised; a second passes.  Then they all strike up again.

On my shady balcony, tubs of color:  impatiens, caladiums, violets, maidenhair ferns.  And, oh delight!  A shiny sleepy-eyed green frog has taken up residence in the water reservoir under the ferns!

I live alone and am often asked whether I feel lonely. Where, I wonder, on this magical and miraculous Earth could loneliness be found? Where can a split be found in the fabric of Life?

~

Previously posted to =this unlit light=