where i finally come to rest

internet image
i yearn to be a stone in the restless river, rushing hard against me in
urgent raging flow. a solidly embedded stone, seemingly forever in
the river, can be swiftly rolled into a new abode by the century's
massive flood. nothing is secure in place, all is moving where it needs to be.

i stay in silence, as is the nature of a stone. let the river do the
talking & the moving & the surging to the eager hungry sea below.
let the river roll me long & smooth that i may be a holy lingam in
Your temple, Shiva, serving as i can best where i finally come to rest.

the wall with no door

finally i find myself here at this wall with no door, looming
before me so high that i cannot see the top. i have explored
in all directions, roaming relentlessly, & each time i have
come to that wall that has no door. no matter where i journey, the
wall stands tall. i think that i take it with me, this towering wall
that is built from a lifetime's conditioning & propaganda.

i am like a turtle, carrying my protection. i can hide
within it & never be caught in the open where danger can
descend swiftly, like a fierce raptor from the clear blue cloudless sky.

cracks now breach the wall & they are spreading, deepening every day.
i can see light shining through the larger cracks & it flickers most
temptingly in a code i'm called to decipher. in this way, the
wall becomes my teacher, inviting me to heightened awareness.

hence, a wall can make a prison or a fortress, depending on
the point of view. for now, i am simply relieved to discern this
wall & to know that it will crumble & fall when Shiva sees that
the time is ripe for it. until then, please forgive me for all that
i have left unsaid & for all that i cannot unsay today.

silence of the heart

there is holy silence in the heart when all the urgent words are said
& the inner choice stands clear at last. there is nothing more to be done.
silence dwells within the heart when i lay my defenses down & bow
in humble gratitude to Shiva's conquest of my stubborn self-will.
silence reigns within the heart when the internal struggle is over
& i set to work with bandages & ointments, applying them as
needed to both the innocent & damned, for compassion judges not.

from the holy silence of the heart flows now the purity of love.

flying into pieces

it seems in reverie that our various human lives are like leaves
swirling in the chill breeze of fall. they are sublimely brilliant, poignant
& pure, swiftly gone, whirling on, flying into pieces in the wind.
each life is different, yet they are also alike in many ways.
they are nuanced with deeply meaningful patterns, tender, touching &
precious. heroic stories are played out in swiftly gliding glimpses
that grip & sweep the viewer far inside to the heart of mystery.
& then they are gone: all the human lives, like the swirling leaves, flying
into pieces in the fingers of the wind within the witnessing sky.

ah, Shiva, You tell me to look beyond the transient to that which
remains continuously present as source essence. You are formless
& vast, & i am a focal point of You, extended into form.
let the leaves & lives fly by: i will return with them to formlessness.

the fibonacci-mandelbrot polka

Shiva's dance is the powerful tandava, laying out lines of
commanding energy, vigorous & compelling. our human
dance seems to be the fibonacci-mandelbrot polka, three quick
steps & a hop. we throw ourselves into the perpetually
repeating self-similar patterns, intending to advance our
understanding. each dance move leads on to yet another, with but
a slight change, replication into evolution, flowing on.

new expressions emerge ceaselessly from the old. we step lively
to keep pace, all part of the innate cosmic pattern that subtly
links all expression as one self-similar repeating wingding of a
pattern. three quick steps & a hop & here we go again, dancing
out our destiny in the fibonacci-mandelbrot polka!