Meditation

First, I settle

And then

As if drifting

I am dipped in the liquid of being

And go whole

Into that golden sea,

The light sea

Where there are no beginnings.

And in those unfathomed waters

All that was

Is indistinguishable,

All that could be

Is likewise nullified,

All things of form

Answer the call,

Returning home to the source

To be free.

Yet when I arise,

When I put on my clothes,

My mind and my body,

I feel the warm nakedness of truth,

A drop of that sea

Lubricating all things

With wonder,

A single infinite drop

Baptising all with its light.

Single Eternal Note

I won’t go into the day save to say it was grim as an overcast sky, hungover and car sick. But now, on a beach polished golden by late afternoon light, two cold beers – my companions, refreshment beading bottle-green glass and glugged so thirstily, the whole of reality is changed, altered.

The wind moves constant through the pines, and unseen birds twitter: Vibrating needles hum a single eternal note.

The tide is in, lapping gently in the push of cool waters. Oystercatchers shrill low over the glistening brine, every wavelet capturing the blinding sun.

Moored sailboats jostle anonymous, swayed by tide, current and breeze, their lanyards chink, chink, chinking, tolling a finger-tapping rhythm, a morse code of freshness.

The wind moves constant through the pines, and unseen birds twitter: Vibrating needles hum a single eternal note.

The sun is on my back like a hug from behind. I look up, and the beach is near deserted. My companions are spent and silent, drunk.

The sunbathers have packed up, leaving but a memory’s shape pressed in the sand. Only a lone young woman remains, sitting on the wall, reading. There is a deep silence inside her, a peace made of the ever-flowing wind.

The wind moves constant through the pines, and unseen birds twitter: Vibrating needles hum a single eternal note.

Behind the woman is the row of trees from which the birds twitter. Their trunk-bodies are sculpted by the air; their faces swept clean; their hair creaking; their needles vibrating with the sound of reality.

I can taste the world, the whole world, brought by the wind and the twittering birds, constant in the fronds of the trees, creaking gently.

The wind moves constant through the pines, and unseen birds twitter: Vibrating needles hum a single eternal note.

I can feel the world, the whole world, called by the wind and the bird’s constant twittering, and the oystercatchers cutting the sunlight from the waves, and the chink, chink chinking of lanyards drumming on aluminium masts.

I know the world, the whole world, found in my broadening heart’s cool waters and the sun’s hug from behind. I know the loving world contained in the constance of silence as the wind moves through the pines and unseen birds twitter; Vibrating needles humming a single eternal note.

Gift

I dropped into myself

Settling into stillness,

Falling deeper

And ever deeper

Until I touched the reverent moment

And disappeared.

And now I rise

Back into the body,

Up, up, up and up

Into the world,

Wet and frictionless as a new born

As if my slick skin

Were a lung

And could drink

The divine osmosis,

Every molecule freely interchanged,

Undone in form,

Beautiful and borderless.

Oh, how warm

Have I come clothed in nakedness,

How touched

I am;

Come home

From home

To home,

As if when I drank from myself

The whole universe

Became a vast and comfortable blanket

That I did not drag

Upon my back

But which bore me

As though a wave of lightest medium

Harnessed me to its being

And brought me surging,

And painted gleaming new.

And so,

What thing I am,

What movement in which I move

Is bowed

To lowest bended knee,

And from the eyes

Tears stream

In bountiful gladness,

Lubricating the offering

I offer whole and entirely:

My heart held out

In the palm of my hand

As a gift to you,

My love,

A gift for you.

On A Balcony

On a balcony

Breakfast set on a small table:

Strong, bitter coffee in paper cups,

A croissant, a white roll, milk

And jam in plastic packets.

The near world:

Weathered stone buildings

With Terracotta rooves

And balconies from which

An array of washing dries,

Narrow alleys webbed together

By cables and telephone wires,

And covered terraces

Festooned in succulents

And semi tropical flowers.

Ratcheting Cicadas

Unseen in the trees

Haul the just so-ness,

Drawing it with percussive song

Until it miraculously oozes

From the pores of all things,

No one

More or less steeped

In equality’s being,

Reality broad and encompassing,

Presence vibrating as a unified field,

Every tangible element

Totally equanimous.

Instead

Instead the ever outward looking

For love

Turn inside yourself

To that which was always there;

Deepest well of formless infinity,

For there dwells life,

A heart-full of life

In abandonment to love,

Beautiful being of love.

There seem to be two options:

A movement into mind

And the stories we tell,

That swirl around

As so much fear.

Or the other way,

In the direction of self,

Detached from the fictions

And free

In the formless realms

So easily overlooked.

Instead the ever outward looking

For love

Turn inside yourself

To that which was always there;

Deepest well of formless infinity,

For there dwells life,

A heart-full of life

In abandonment to love,

Beautiful being of love.

I Dwells There

All things are drawn

To the crucible of the heart:

None are immune

Or impartial to its force.

And there

The matter of it

Is dissolved,

Brought to equality

And equanimity

By love’s dominance.

All are relieved,

All are forgiven,

For I dwells there

And yet dwells elsewhere

In the same instant,

Covering the whole of it,

Every dimension

And all far reaches.

I, the lover and the loved,

I, the being being,

I, the one and all,

Star-bright and all consuming,

Dematerialising that which it touches.

Fresh Air

I breathe the life

In fresh air,

Close my eyes

And feel the space inside

As I feel the space without.

I smile at nothing

Feeling vibrant space,

Feeling being

Feeling the nothing of my self,

And tasting sweetness.

Who am I in this

With every idea cast

And separate from my being?

Who am I

In this?

I am space

And fresh air

And sweetness.

I am nothing

But being’s spaciousness.

Truth

These days the truth seems elusive:

The certainties we took for granted

Are dissolving into a mix of twisted

And frightening realities.

Who to trust now

When all around are pushing

Agendas and fake news?

Trust in the inner truth of self

For there is a wellspring of energy

Beyond the realms of ‘not enough’.

Always and ever present

The heart’s voice speaks

In fearlessness:

The now in which we live

Is safe,

A flow of abundance

And ever-giving wealth.

Know this as being

Know this being as yourself,

For in being

The noise of fractious multitudes

Quietens and ebbs,

Even their voices

Are imbued with love.

The truth is never elusive

When we dissolve

And trust in trust,

The truth is always,

Always in love.

I Look Into Your Eyes

I look into your eyes

And find my joy brimming,

For I could fall inside

The clarity of your seeing

And swim free

In nothing,

Buoyant in the being we share.

You told me of a Tuscan life

Picking olives,

A world where obstacles

Had dissolved

And all that evolved

Was the beautifully self

Looking at the same time

Both inward and out.

I tasted the olive of happiness

And lived your life

As my life

Dwelling in kinship

With you,

Where you were nothing but myself

Looking kindly from another perspective.