Stop attributing names and shapes to the essentially nameless and formless, realize that every mode of perception is subjective, that what is seen or heard, touched or smelled, felt or thought,expected or imagined, is in the mind and not in reality, and you will experience peace and freedom from fear. ~ Nisargadatta Maharaj
Posts tagged meditation
The thought manifests as the word, the word manifests as the deed.
The deed develops into habit, and habit hardens into character.
So watch the thought and its ways with care and let it spring from love.
Born out of concern for all living beings, the shadow follows the body
and never leaves it.
In the same way, as we think, we become.
My heart is sung out,
But to where does honesty carry
The buoyant caste.
Metallic clouds ring the sky
Circle my stilling mind
With a heavy halo.
Lightning strikes the village pond;
Lashing black striation
Of awesome calm and power,
Baby frogs take cover
Beneath the blades of quivering grass.
The fields sway in controlled ways,
The well rehearsed bird song unfolds;
The reason we are reaching out
Only to return to centre.
All things that flip and flow
Balance redressed when gaze
To the source of heart and soul,
The primal clicking of some things
Unseen; some more,
Without cause or measure.
Where once we rested
Naked in the dark,
Small bells tied to our ankles
In a cascading melody of calm.
Drops of storm rain cleanse
The silver mirror,
Slipping on over surfaces; snagged on
Lost in the engravings of the
The hovering art,
The ‘all seeing eye!’
Beating the game through
A pack of propaganda.
Where are the super heroes we seek?
The infinite in the ordinary,
The wisdom of the ages
Ensnared by the daily grind,
In bodies, in minds.
Where is the siddhi of truth?
Lost in the foothills of the insane
Desire spirals in a consuming charade.
Have we thought it through?
You; the master who rules.
The mantle of a god is a curse.
No alarms, no surprises,
No shock and joy.
Will relates to the extraordinary.
In the humanity of petty existence;
Existence for the sake of it.
Do not be disappointed
By the magical mornings
Of grey skies and cold toast.
No white robes or
Beatific folly can ease
The darkness drawn to your gaze.
Do not fear the familiar,
For the tired lines on your face
Are the brushstrokes of true grace.
I have a wealth of time, I have now.
I am rich beyond imagination; I see,
I hear, I speak,
I feel and think; eat well
And sleep; drink wine,
Drunk on love and my cosmic muse,
Vibrant in the focused sincerity
Of an honest fool.
I am ever free to dream and always, almost,
Close to release.
Making commands of light,
Making my way along the pathways of experience,
To be delivered, eyeing the ear of corn
And the passing boatman’s song.
Out of the smallest parts
Of what I am,
Comes a sense of something more refined, already risen.
Where I may alight and speak of unspeakable
Beauty and revel in the parts
There the immensity of being shrinks,
Where I may yearn to come undone.
Enchanted (without magnification)
Great one (Buddha)
Nameless and emptied
Thought cannot reach
Gripped by breeze
Crickets sunset chorus
Children of the soil
One and all,
Wayward spirits stray
Far from the apple tree,
The shadows of leaves
Blot out the sun,
In this shade we shelter
And come undone.
The translucent veneer
Of the peace that we found,
Is born in the one,