Mawlana and Mr Cohen
Have been inverted.
Everything is cracking
And through the crevices
Up from the depths of what we are
From the underworld
The Light seeps through
Revealing the Truth
Which had been hidden
In our separation.
Behold there are no edges
The walls have melted
Fences have evaporated
The basket has been smashed
Light fills our space
We are freed.
All bells ring
Our offering of Being.
What was broken
on the day of gratefulness
could not be repaired.
Musing at the ambiguity of disfunction,
Oh, this arm only lies here,
this mouth does not speak.
Like a child investigating
an old toy rediscovered.
How quickly the broken
is accepted and made the most of.
As with the worn thin shoe.
We stay from habit, or is it gratitude,
Despite the road being felt
more roughly in our soles.
But it is the day of thankfulness.
Beyond passing lamentation,
We returned to the deep gaze.
Death wears bright colors.
The red of rose and cardinal.
Blue of Texas hills.
Yellow for forgetting.
Relax in the gentleness of her embrace.
Though starkly white of face
With midnight eyes,
Her colors point,
Like the flowers of the maypole,
To new life.
Through the gates she guards
The unimaginable awaits, perfectly
Prepared, designed and ready, for when
She takes your last gasp.
Why be Sorry.
Do I lament the dry orchid flowers
Lying on the coffee table
Knowing next year’s spike is already in preparation?
Life is transition.
Loss is a moment in a movement
Diving into Uttanasana the head must drop.
When loss has only a bitter taste
Looking deeply into it,
Fullness and wholeness are found.
As we know in the release of Shavasana
Always and Everywhere.
A friend pointed out that the etymology of the word ‘can’ is to ‘know.’ This is obvious in the physical realm, know-how is needed before I ‘can.’ In life at large this seems true as well, a certain gnosis, knowing from direct experience, is needed before one ‘can’ live a good life.
This reminded me that Gurdjieff said, “In order to ‘do’ one must ‘Be.’
These two brought up this:
It’s all God’s Will
Everything happens according to Law
To know is to can
To be is to do
Thus the universe maintains itself
Thus the Absolute recognizes itself
Relax in This.
The limited I beckons
Like a siren
Turn back to the open ocean
The unknowable vast space
The known is a dead end
Trying to make sense
Ends the mystery
Step into
Being
Vulnarable.
What is the real behind the façade?
What is the heart within the skin?
What is the essence of the person?
Mustn’t a reality include its parts?
So, despite appearances,
The real must envelope the façade.
The heart must subsume the skin.
The essence must be the person.
May we refrain from turning askance to the obviousness of the fact.
As the now tired joke goes,
It’s turtles all the way down.
See the hidden wisdom of this cliché.
Whatever word we use, it’s all the same
Everywhere, always, all the way
In every direction.
Why be Sorry.
Do you lament the dry orchid flowers
Lying on the coffee table
Knowing next year’s spike is already in preparation?
Life is transition.
Loss is a moment in a movement
Diving into Uttanasana the head must drop.
If loss is only a bitter taste
Look deeply into it with me.
Therein is fullness and wholeness
As you know in the release of Shavasana
Always and Everywhere.
I think I am; I am one
Body, vibrating; I am two
Subtle feeling movement,
I am three.
Three resonate as one
Presence.
Billowing cloud expanding,
Engulfing the atmosphere,
Like a second body.
Am I two?
Enveloped and billowing,
Is there an edge?
Am I three, multitudes, one?
What am I?
It is OK to not know.
Yet, I know … .
Silent harmonics.
I found my love was troublesome
Until I chose Love over corrections.
I find the world is troublesome
In oh, so many ways.
From near-ones to whole peoples,
Suffering abounds.
Until I chose Love over corrections.
Then sufferance abounds,
With Love predominant.
Always on duty
The Watchman stands affirming
I sleep at its feet.
Its gaze alarming
The Watchman breads contentment
Wake and join its stance.
I am the Watchman
Aware of myself sensing
Reflected in forms.
The problem is not sleep or awakening
The problem is identification
But it is not a problem
It is an illusion
A story told by a small part which has tensed up
See the illusion and the tension will relax
My difficulty is that this tensing and story telling is a strong habit
While one tense part is relaxing
Another is already tensing
See, relax …
But it is not a difficulty
It is living
See, relax, see, relax, see, relax …
The above comes from a tense part’s story
See, relax, see, relax, see, relax, be, see, relax …
James Evans & By The Way Books 