You are the sun
Lighting the whole universe.
Through your eyes
And in your seeing
Is the illumination of it all.
You stand at its centre
Looking out:
The very self you seek.
You Are The Sun
Author: distilledvoice
The Artist’s Way
Immersed in the landscape
Or fixated on an object,
This artist does not paint
What his eyes see,
Rather, he absorbs the sight,
Places it
In the cauldron of his being
Where life seeps
As the language of the soul.
It is this he paints,
This aliveness
Mirroring landscape or thing:
His spirit
And God’s spirit
Dancing as one
Infinite being,
And reaching out
To his poised fingers,
To transform the inanimate
And deliver magic on the canvas,
Every stroke of his brush imbued
With the inward spirit he feels.
When The Noise Stops
When the noise stops,
When the machine of thinking thoughts
Slows to a lull
Or is brought silent
In a moment of
Concentration.
When the worker sets down his tools,
Rests a while,
Leaves his ideas alone,
Then,
In this pause,
This relaxation,
The love that was always there
Is seemingly exposed,
And Life,
Beautiful and whole
Is known in fullness.
All Things Dissolve
In love
All things dissolve,
Coming to rest
In the primary nature
Of being.
–
All that is apparent:
The forms in the world
Are melted
In love’s crucible,
Love’s home-bound heart.
–
There is nothing insoluble,
No behaviour
Or state of mind
That can stand
The yolk of the sun.
–
Love is indomitable
Yet gentle as warmth
Passed from father to son.
It encompasses all,
Leaves nothing
–
But tenderness, acceptance
And a wealth of connectedness.
It is the foundation we share,
All of us equally beneficent
And wholly unified.
The Morning Is Crisp
On the first crisp autumn day
Dazzling light from the low sun
Guilds the forest,
Burnishing every leaf.
In hollows
There is the shadow of frost,
Grasses jacketed stiff,
But in the open
The sky is clean
And the distant rolling hills
Seem magnified.
After coffee sipped
With the sun’s hand on my back,
I amble through the farm shop
Selecting delicious items,
And while paying for my goods
A conversation spontaneously happens.
Like two old friends
Exchanging intimacies,
The shop assistant speaks
And I listen.
We share our truth
And as I look into their eyes
I see wisdom
Deep in their seeing,
As if the autumn light
Came from understanding
As much as from the sun outside,
And I am warmed
And touched by the moment
And brought wholly into the now,
An openness without resistance.
Picture
In the floor to ceiling window
Opens the picture:
The river
Glassy with the sky,
Smudged with autumn morning,
A pale blue glaze
In which mists cling
And spiral,
Calling back
The chill night
That stilled the dew drops
To a crust
And freed the tattered leaves
To mulch beneath the trees,
Sending out
A sweet and heady breath
Of spores
As life withdraws,
Releasing jealousies,
Indifferent now
To the russet matter
Discarded.
Where Sanctuary?
Where sanctuary?
In thought’s fickle materialisation?
In the world of passing things,
Ever dematerialising,
Always dying and slinking away?
In emotion’s slavery
To the fickle thought?
–
Where else is there?
–
Where else
But the nothing,
The dimensionless no-thing,
The substance-less non-realm
Of the self.
Where else but the self’s
Void-less void,
Thing-less thing,
The self’s changeless being,
Un-conceived
And un-manifest.
–
Where sanctuary?
–
Only in nothing:
Foundation found
Only in the
Self’s foundationlessness.
From The Ashes
From the ashes of my beliefs
Awakes the child of myself,
Born into the moment.
–
Can he remain true
To the idealess
Realm of his beginnings
–
Or must he age
In the world,
Heavier with each moment,
–
Each new belief?
Is the ageing process
And stiffening up
–
An illusion
In which we dwell
Stiffer and more unwell
–
In the hardening carapace
Of personality’s
Hard work and upkeep?
–
Or is the child unblemished,
Cocooned in the now,
Eternally fresh,
–
Ideas burned to ash
Under his gaze,
Illusions
–
Nothing but ciders
In the presence
Of his presence?
The Blazing Heart
Perhaps you forgot
The searing light,
Buried it
In low-mood thoughts
And reason
As heavy as chains.
–
Oh, yes, you say,
Give me the nicotine of thought
And worldly misadventure.
Let me overlook my overlooking,
Let me ignore my ignorance
And dwell outside myself
In a swirl of worries,
While the light is left unacknowledged.
–
Instead,
Remember, not the cold intellectual light
And the optics of the brain,
But the warm body of love
Inside yourself.
–
Remember the needless state
Where the heart floats
On ethers,
And worries are nothings,
Neither fears, nor even yours.
–
Remember the you
Before the you
Who carried the weight of living,
The unfettered you
Buoyant and watching,
Alive in the now
From which all springs forth.
–
Remember the sun of love
Blazing in your heart,
Remember remembering,
And the knowing
That the heart has always, always burned,
Is never dulled
And will never ever grow dark.
The Looking Of You
There is a looking,
A looking into yourself
Where the eyes
Become ever wide.
Ever and ever wider
Grows seeing
As though astonishment
Were limitless,
And what the self is
Is no less
Than all.
And yet there is greater seeing
And wider eyes,
As astonishment
Is refreshed with each
Step into yourself,
Each looking wider still,
Seeing drawn into
An infinite expansion
Into seeing itself.
Ever wider sees the I
Behind the eyes,
Ever wider
Becomes the I.
distilledvoice 