closed eyes & a dream of love

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I felt youth again,
not as memory now,
but forceful anticipation,
as something yet to come,
as if the hand of someone
once alive in that memory
had reached through confusion
and touched me again,
the horizon all implication
and extended invitation
to sudden arrival,
all the elemental forces
of the world a gifted revelation,
this day, my life, this body,
this ground on which to stand
this weather a sea,
and my sense of self
a strange shoreline
on which it broke and fell.

Then looking up,
my hand lifted to parse the light,
I remembered kneeling as a child
over new worlds Iā€™d seen charted
on an open page,
me there on the kitchen floor,
a concentrated, kneeling figure,
reading Coleridge over and over,
my bent head compelled
to the fearful journey
like an intuited prayer
for my whole life,
some child in me now
abroad in the storm
inclined once more
to the old wonder,
and my grown heart
wracked by waters,
still moved to beat
and write it all again.

…..David Whyte

when we write the poetry of our life, we are more easily tendered into our truest self….the raw and the rich nuance that really is all about the bitter sweetnesses….may we draw the circle complete around our hearts…….

It’s only when we lose the illusion of control- when we’re most vulnerable and exposed- that we discover the creative potential of our lives. The cause of all suffering can be boiled down to grasping onto a fictional, contrived existence. But what does that mean? If we really come to understand, then there is no longer even a container to hold together our normal concepts, to make them coherent. The precious pot shatters, and all our valuables roll away like marbles on a table. Reality as we thought we knew it is disrupted; the game of contriving an ideal self is suddenly irrelevant. This is shunyata, which gets translated in various ways, most commonly as “emptiness,” but there is no real correlate in our language, no single word or idea that can cover this ground of disrupted reality. We’re not talking about giving up our precious human life, of course; we’re talking about giving up on this subtle game. It’s the game we play all the time: we keep postponing our acceptance of this moment in order to pursue reality as we think it should be. When things fall apart, we can only be as we are Pretense and striving fall away, and life becomes starkly simple. There is an incredible reality that opens up to us in those gaps if we just do not reject rupture. In fact, if we have some reliable idea of what is happening in that intermediate, groundless space, rupture can become rapture…..Pema Khandro Rinpoche

remember wide open spaces

As you live deeper in the heart,

the mirror gets cleaner and clearer.



5 thoughts on “closed eyes & a dream of love

  1. Yes there is no word for shunyata, emptiness loses the true meaning. More like a rain barrel, holding the spring rain, overflowing from the summer storm, drying in the autumn sun, frozen and purified by the winter. A constant state of change neither holding on nor letting go, the vessel, not the container …

  2. Within the vast wilderness of the heart, love is remembered time and again, the sorrows becoming but a reminder of all that came before. Coal into diamond, truth remains a stone in the well. Love was never lost,residing still in the moment before our eyes open, words that strain against the grandness of joy. We carry it, it carries us. ā¤ I love this. Could you tell?

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