I have not the eloquence of Rumi, Hafiz, Tagore, mystics and saints. Their gift was to pen the wondrous moments when the Divine’s gaze fell into their eyes. I have only the gift bestowed that turned my head to see. A stick of incense…..
It appears an impenetrable fortress or a turbulent frothing sea. Much like thoughts and beliefs. Yet any fragile bird or breeze will tell you how easy it is to move through and beyond. Maybe that is the problem. We feel we need to…..
Friday’s scrich described how like an uncorked bottle of champagne I bounded out to walk between appointments. Yesterday’s scrich was to sit in awe as migration’s rest was suspended beyond the limits of desire……
Morning meditation usually closes my eyes. But sometimes a gift appears. Sits in your lap. Rather than see a distraction to simply gaze into the eyes of unconditional love and presence. And the whisper…unconditional ayes.
Not all meditation cushions are the same. Maxwell Wildlife Refuge in NM has become my meditation cushion. Can I simply enjoy the hawk’s flight over the mesa and not reach for my camera or fear what I may be missing? Can I be attentive enough…..
I do not ask to be removed Changed or a gift Given or received. Nor to be embraced Infused Nor even clarity’s light. Instead Keyless and unable To enter A house I abide in the universe Walking in gentle rain…..
The writer of the post described a horrific day. His meditation practice apparently was failing and he was stuck. I pondered his despair, and admittedly my own, as I face challenges whose outcomes I do not know. As I pondered, I found myself slipping into stillness and without intention I silently chanted “OM.” Slowly the pondering and my own restlessness quieted. As both calmed I noticed, after all these years, that it was the closing of my lips as the…..
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