Tag Archives: mystery

relaxing into innate wisdom…the secret of human nature…

Posted on by
6

life, like mancala...a game of hope & mystery...

I find you, Lord, in all Things & in all

my fellow creatures, pulsing with your life;

as a tiny seed you sleep in what is small

& in the vast you vastly yield yourself.

The wondrous game that power plays with Things

is to move in such submission through the world:

groping in roots & growing thick in trunks

& in treetops like a rising from the dead.

…Rilke

the promise of the spiritual quest is this…..to linger in the lightness of heart…an abiding awarensess….not cajoled into perfection….knowing the tranquil fearlessness which comes from breathing in the human condition….a life lived…..

longing for that place of grace & sureness…

Opening up the secret of our human nature, revealing to ourselves & to each other our deep & soulful longings, our fear & sadness, our joy & wonder, is the critical step on the spiritual path. It is the step that makes the difference between living our own, real spirituality & just acquiring someone else’s beliefs. We could say that the history of human suffering is our inability to come to terms with our spiritual hunger. Like one big cosmic joke, humans were born yearning, yet without the map to get ‘there.’ The source of our spiritual longing resides in a place deep within us. It is a quiet & faithful place that can become our most dependable friend when we learn to access its powerful wisdom…….Elizabeth Lesser

the luminous human experience….humble cycles of light & dark….

Posted on by
7

on the threshold of light….looking for magic on the other side….

The blind rolls up. Light enters

& shows us where we are.

Windows allow for no fooling.

What would it mean to realize

that every one of us is a window

where life shines through?

Could we stand to know how

every moment reveals this?

Anyone paying attention could see if we were open

or shut, spattered or clear?

A blind could not hide us-

we would only be revealed as covered.

No one would be fooled.

Could we trust that it is safe to be

without subterfuge?

Then we would be clear enough

for light to come through us naturally.

…..Gunilla Norris

are we ever safe enough to practice transparency? can we find our shadow selves? can we notice how the light falls through our window? what becomes more clear?

the architecture of the universe…so big…so small….

At our birth we emerge from the root mystery of the cosmos, a deep & silent mystery into which we will one day be reabsorbed. Our own lives are a spiral pattern of creative unfolding into light. Fashioned out of the creative power of starlight & the fecund body of the Earth, we are the children of Earth & starry heaven caught up in the timeless rhythm of the celestial dance……David Fideler

the peephole reveals the other side….just a little distorted….

Posted on by
4

the kissing fields

The Soul should always stand ajar

That if the heaven inquire

He will not be obliged to wait

Or shy of troubling Her

Depart, before the Host have slid

The Bolt unto the Door-

To search for the accomplished Guest,

Her Visitor, no more-

….Emily Dickinson

these doors we peer in to seek our own cosmos, complete with its sensitive vernacular…..rich & studded with labels, eternities, & infinite imagination….tentatively reveling in the heart….& at times the abandon we seek by slipping through an unguarded door doesn’t reveal the spontaneity we had dreamed to find on the other side….we still wear the same clothes, fit in the same molds, & drink our coffee at dawn….

was it the door of iniquity? or simply the desire to shed skin?

the breathless, childlike ways endure….

So, dear Sir, I can’t give you any advice but this: to go into yourself & see how deep the place is from which your life flows; at its source you will find the answer to the question of whether you must create. Accept that answer, just as it is given to you, without trying to interpret it. For the creator must be a world for himself & must find everything in himself & in Nature, to whom his whole life is devoted…..Rilke

imperfections of the heart

Posted on by
6

I love my friends..may we remain in heart space....

love may be the most abused word, like battering our own hearts…

this is our heart’s momentum, moving through time & space …

In each & every aspect of life, the chance to turn the straw we find into gold is there in our hearts. All that is asked is our respectful attention, our willingness to learn from difficulty. Instead of fighting, when we see with eyes of wisdom, difficulties can become our good fortune…..

in this keen longing for ‘goodness’ & ‘understanding’….

what arrows pierce our heart?

Without ideals, the heart can turn the suffering & imperfections we encounter into the path of compassion. In this nonidealistic practice, the divine can shine through even in acts of ignorance & fear, inviting us to wonder at the mystery of all that is…This spirituality is about who we are rather than what ideal we pursue……

tune in to your worrisome heart…

the reenchantment of the hubris in complacency

Posted on by
9

walking deeper into....

Enchantment is both the capacity of the world to charm us & the spell that comes upon us when we open ourselves to the magic in everyday experiences. An enchanted world is alive & rich in personality. It reveals itself to us in its beauty & poetic presence. Both the realm of nature & the world of things have their magic that can stun us & ultimately make life feel worth living……Thomas Moore

this is the space of deep intuition….the land of charm….the heart of life’s gifts… finding our own way is the way of the wild soul, weaving the ups & down into a beauteous wrap….useful on dark & stormy nights…..

the core of our enchantment is longing….for the sacred…using compassion & courage as guides….climbing….is the path soft or rocky today?

the stars hold no memory…only bliss….

Reenchantment means stepping beyond the modern traditions of mechanism, positivism, empiricism, rationalism, materialism, secularism & scientism- the whole objectifying consciousness of Enlightenment- in a way that allows for a return of soul. Reenchantment implies a release from the affliction of nihilism, ’our culture’s cancer of the spirit.’ We move toward a new pragmatic idealism & a more integrated value system that brings head & heart together in an ethic of care, as part of the healing of the world….Suzi Gablik

the deeper cry for wholeness….

Posted on by
9

water & wood

Floral muscle,

Little by little open

Morning meadow’s anemone

Til in her lap

The polyphonous light

Of sounding skies

Radiates.

In the quiet blossom’s star, flexed,

Muscle of infinite receptivity

Often so overwhelmed with fullness

That the sunset’s call to rest

Can hardly return to you

The wide-relaxed petals:

You, the firmness & fortitude

Of many worlds.

We are violent

And stay around longer

But when, in which of all our lives,

will we finally open up

and become receptive?

….Rilke

this secret that our heart whispers to us now & again….whispering sweet nothings about what lies beyond us….whispering a calling beyond the self-possession….beyond imagination….

this secret is about ‘abandonment to the nature of things’….released into the celestial life….a transcendency of our rollicking tides into something wild….our own blooming summers…fully anticipated & realized….

This is the ongoing purpose of full attention: to find a thousand ways to be pierced into wholeness…Mark Nepo

  within the cloud of unknowing…

The Zen experience is more of a conclusion than a premise. It is never to be used as the first step in a line of metaphysical reasoning, since conclusions draw to it rather than from it. Like the Beatific Vision of Christianity, it is a ‘which than which there is not whicher’- the true end of man- not a thing to be used for some other end. Like the Curucifixion, it is to the Jews a stumblingblock & the Greeks foolishness. To say that ‘everything is the Tao’ almost gets the point, but just at the moment of getting it, the words crumble into nonsense. For we are here at a limit at which words break down because they always imply a meaning beyond themselves- & here there is no meaning beyond…..Alan Watts

lean into the wind…listen to the vastness…

Posted on by
14

we are all nomads in prayer

Poise

A small flower growing out of a stone quivers high above the worn paths. Its fragrance drifts down shore where a young woman is contemplating suicide, & something in the hint of flower lifts her depressed head for a moment, but the fragrance dissipates, & she sinks again, staring at the waves, wondering why. The scent is picked up by a gull, matted in its feathers. It makes the gull fly wildly through the only cloud, through the white center of nothing. An old man in a fishing boat is stunned by the swift charge of the gull into open sky. He relaxes his net, & underneath the shadow of the boat, the tangled angelfish squirm free….Mark Nepo

feel the unseeable connections…

our shared suffering allows us to feel compassion….made even more gentle & poignant when the fragile bits sprout from the rock….when the hardened heart softens….when we are humbled by our small world….

In the web of life, you see the tentativeness of physical incarnation in this world. You come to realize the essential, ephemeral, & ungraspable experience. This letting go opens you to a profound & deep trust in the way things are. The river of life & its impermanence makes us see vastness. No moment can ever be repeated, & every moment is always new & then quickly replaced. We find our composure when we realize the ‘everlasting truth of everything changes.’  Life is precious & beautiful & unfathomable……Jack Kornfield

a simple joy mirrors the inner to the outer …..

Posted on by
10

moving through fire....

Maybe you’ve had the disturbing experience of misplacing your soul. You might have asked, ‘Is my soul found inside me or is it ‘out there’ in nature?’ The answer surprises: You can learn about your soul by looking ‘inward’ through the windows of imagination & feeling. And you can learn about your soul by looking ‘outward’ to the wild world. But the soul itself is neither inside nor outside. The wild world reflects your essence back to you just like a still lake reflects your image. In the same way, your soul, your essence, is in the world, & nature mirrors that fact back to you…Bill Plotkin

this visionary experience reveals layers….knowing & not knowing…death & life…soul embracing all…..complete with its ambiguity, paradox, & shifty-eyed shadows in the dark….

really though, these ‘big mysteries’ come back to simple joys where soul ignites….

eating an apple, tying your hiking boots, tucking in a cool pillow, waking to birdsong, following the moon behind a tree, cool sand under tense feet, photos of your grandmother, sitting on a park bench, snowballs & a little mischief, picking strawberries, moonless quiet, packing a picnic…

glimpsing the brief thin place between you & soul

when everything around you is enough….

I know that nothing has ever been real

without my beholding it.

All becoming has needed me.

My liking ripens things

and they come toward me, to meet & be met.

…Rilke

 I can hear music…when there is none….

the serenity of the unambitious life

Posted on by
19

a simple life

When I detect a beauty in any of the recesses of nature, I am reminded by the serene & retired spirit in which it requires to be contemplated, of the inexpressible privacy of life- how silent & unambitious it is. The beauty there in the mosses will have to be considered from the holiest, quietest nook…. My truest, serenest moments are too still for emotion; they have woolen feet. In all our lives we live under the hill, & if we are not gone we live there still…

……..Henry David Thoreau

drunk on heavy, sweet & green air….luscious, ripe, full of temptation to loosen more & more…to relent to the pull of the silent edge….’come in to know me,’ the mirrored water whispers….

from one extreme of perfect stillness to the most raucous roar of the canyon, mountain, river, trail…..no difference….the call is the call…the silence remains in the soul of the healing….run & be still…the catapulted stillness of knowing where you are….

I looked up & saw Japhy running down the mountain in huge twenty-foot leaps, running, leaping, landing with a great drive of his booted heels, bouncing five feet or so, running, then taking another long crazy yelling yodelaying sail down the sides of the world & in that flash I realized ‘it’s impossible to fall off mountains you fool’ & with a yodel of my own I suddenly got up & began running down the mountain after him doing exactly the same huge leaps, the same fantastic runs & jumps, & in the space of about five minutes I’d guess Japhy Ryder & I (in my sneakers, driving the heels of my sneakers right into sand, rock, boulders, I didn’t care any more I was so anxious to get down out of there) came leaping & yelling like mountain goats or I’d say like Chinese lunatics of a thousand years ago…

…Jack Kerouac

simple pleasures…

You May Also Like…

the heart ripped out into blue wonderment

Posted on by
3

holiness in a daydream

The Rose Window

In there: the lazy pacing of their paws

creates a stillness that’s almost dizzying;

and as one of the cats then suddenly

takes the gaze that watches it carelessly

and snatches it into its own great eye,-

and that gaze, as if caught in a whirlpool’s

circle, for a little while stays afloat

and then goes under and is lost to oblivion,

when this eye, which apparently rests,

opens and slams shut with a roaring

and yanks it all the way inside the blood-

thus in olden times out of the darkness

the cathedrals’ great rose windows

would seize hearts and drag them in to God.

…..Rilke

this excavation of our bones is like…..

holing up in a cozy cafe with all of the little lovelies that make you feel safe… a cup o’ joe or tea, your favorite shoes, a great pen & crisp journal & few crayons & charcoal, a rough wood grained table with little blue flowers, a polished stone in your pocket, Rilke & Dylan Thomas & a stack of Parabola magazines, music carried in from the warm & sunny streets…nothing you’d really listen to, but right now it’s like angels singing….

working on a poem & a sketch & remembering another sunny day like this a million years ago & you smile just a little at a cynicism that faded somewhere & the little blue flowers would have been plucked & in your hair in a minute back then, but now it’s enough to be in this moment & not create the moment….

you write about it….then color it blue…how the moment is seized into something greater than you…a boundary crossed into the blue flowers, the blue day, the blue souls all around, your blue heart that is yanked like Rilke’s angels into an intangible sanctuary of perfect openness….& the angels just keep singing….

may the excavation of your bones turn your world to blue….

we tether our own boundaries sometimes…