breathing with the lake

Here I am.
Sitting in Paradise
Breathing the tide of clarity – in it comes
crystal-clear, out it goes,
often muddied by mind –
and I smile as this lifestream flows on
saturating each sensation, yet
paying no heed;
never cocking an eyebrow or casting a vote,
only ever reminding me:
Here I am
here and now
as This, and This and This.

The current version of Paradise finds me staying in a place of great beauty, beside a large lake. This entire year has unfolded as a series of deep retreats. It is a time for, and of, integration. Health issues are being lovingly tended and their emotional causality explored. It’s both harrowing and heart-swelling: Grace delivers whatever is needed, reminding me I signed up for the Full Monty.

Apropos of nothing (I never go fishing) these three small poems landed in my net:

Miriam Louisa Simons, Lake Macquarie, dawn


breathing with the lake

I am

Monet-mind beside the Seine



black swans glide by, curious:

pounding the lakeside path

a rainbow!



fog hiding the lake

one solitary oarsman

rows through melting space


Photograph taken from my zafu.

on the road


Brunswick Heads - Soldier Crabs


unblinking eyeballs

on the march at low tide


[the river mouth at Brunswick Heads, NSW]


Sulphur Crested Cockatoos


a smokers’ dawn chorus

shatters azure silence

cockies aloft

[near Armidale, NSW]


Wellington Caves


eyeless emptiness

gazes at its ancient artistry:

on the road

to now-here

[Wellington Caves, near Dubbo, NSW]


Image credits:
Soldier Crabs by yours truly.
Sulphur Crested Cockatoos from ABC News.
Wellington Caves from – see more stunning images of the caves on this blog.

oh how I love being so deluded


Andrew Wyeth: Wind from the Sea, detail


I was asked to find my mind


I failed

I was asked to find my thoughts


I failed

I was asked to find my self


I failed


So then it seemed timely to try to find

the I

that was so successful at failing



it couldn’t be found


it can’t be escaped


oh how I love being so deluded

that simply watching words leak out of a pen

can deliver shameless delight!


Image: Andrew Wyeth – Wind from the Sea
Tempera on hardboard, 1947, detail
[What moves – the curtain or the wind?]
Source: Washington Post

All writing on this blog leaks from the pen of Miriam Louisa Simons.  Over at my other blog this unlit light, you’ll find more of a smorgasbord of writing, including some of my own.
I chose this WordPress theme for its uncluttered minimalism, and because it’s responsive (i.e., it displays readably on all devices).  All the links that normally appear in a sidebar or footer are hidden behind the menu icon at the top of the page.  If you feel inclined to explore the offerings posted here since 2010, please click that icon.  You’ll also find a way to follow this blog by email there.  I promise you won’t be overwhelmed – emptiness has erratic and unpredictable habits.  Posts turn up.  I marvel.

– mls
Copyright © Emptiness

three spring haiku

Unknown painter: Sparrows singing their hearts out



heavy spring showers

my sleeves wet with the world’s tears

how sweet the birdsong!



everything happens

they say it’s ‘for a reason’

I say stop right there



here’s a great secret:

all does not have to be well

to be perfection


Ink painting, artist unknown. I suspected Ohara Koson but fail to find attribution.
Let me know if you can read the chop and solve the mystery.

pop goes the poseur

Three mid-winter haiku.


Rengetsu - Uji River Teapot Scroll ca1840



winter in my hut

drafts shivering the rainbows

I sit with my tea



thoughts and thinker? wrong

thoughts-thinker-thinking: all one!

pop goes the poseur



zafu guru says

two thoughts cannot co-exist

I dive in the gap


Painting by RengetsuUji River Teapot Scroll

Source – The Rengetsu Circle

early this morning


Miriam Louisa Simons - Stained Glass Morning, Missa Gaia Series


p e a c e

palpable as the presence of a Presence

yet utterly ineffable

a benediction without diction

beyond the grope of thought

a blessedness without symbol

not experienced as other but


– inescapably so –





immaculate all-adoring silence


Image: Miriam Louisa Simons – detail, Stained Glass Morning
Missa Gaia Series,
1987-88. Painting on silk, stitching.
Private Collection, Auckland New Zealand

wonderingmind studio

mooning melts the night


Utagawa Hiroshige (Ando) - Wind Blown Grass Across the Moon



a moment arrives

without a need of the past

the full moon rises



a thought bubbles up

a preference is posited

the moon doesn’t mind



the bubble bursts, pop!

awareness has no center

mooning melts the night


Image: Utagawa Hiroshige (Ando), Wind Blown Grass Across the Moon
Woodblock print
Collection, Brooklyn Museum, New York