PURITY

At the end of the inhalation… at the edge of exhalation…. there is a pause. In that pause the crack opens & all I need to know is revealed. It is the pause at the end of the arc of the child's swing. The suspension at the top of the grand-jete  in ballet. It is the gap  between waking & sleeping. You have been there. You are there thirty two times a minute. Think on it. It is there you will have a hint of the purity I am talking about. Perfection is the true Chimera. There is purity. When you know that purity in your heart you will be at ease. The heart itself is an instrument of purity. Light. Water. Music. Numbers. These are pure. Unblemished…. unblemishable purity. All that happens in time & space... these are just filaments…. tendrils…. sparkles of the fathomless purity that sustains the Creation. I am so grateful for moonlight…. the moon yes… but it is the moonlight that tells me whatever happens in this ever-changing kaleidoscope of my life there is Great Natural Peace sitting just inches away in the depth of the night sky. I devote the rest of time to entering into & embracing that Purity.

SOLSTICE

The darkest day of a dark year. Winter starts. How do we as intergalactic travellers… how do we come to terms with what we are doing out here on the fringe of the Milky Way Galaxy? I know the Taoist concept of the Return. The year ends today. We begin the annual return towards the Light. I am part of the great revival in Divine awareness that is swelling up through the undercurrents here on the watery planet. I return…. we return to the simple certainty that there is a loving kindness… a compassionate presence that creates all that is in this very moment. The doubt… the falling away…. even the despair all serve to underscore the Oceanic brilliance of the Love that creates everything. This is not belief... it is knowledge. Here on this the darkest day of a dark, dark year for human civilization I know with diamond purity the Creation is perfect…. always has been…. always will be. The Returning. The Returning to the Light goes on.

WHITE on WHITE

I am trying to come to terms with the unfathomable beauty of the world we live in. The moon was so white early this morning…. almost as white as the centre of the sun streaming in through my window. Have you ever cracked open the brown hairy surface of a coconut to find this impossibly white meat delicately moulded to the undersurface?A pail of freshly squeezed udder milk in the galvanized grey of the pail. Snow… snow… snow….. the roads closed… the fields flat as a plaster wall. Pages of foolscap cracked free from the plastic wrap. The flesh of red apples. The wake of the speed boat against the aquamarine. Appaloosa Stallion with the one red fleck on the yellow Buffalo grass. The  pool of cream in the mouth of the ceramic pitcher. The canines of my brother Wolf against the pink of the tongue and the red blood of the fallen elk buck. The lacquer skin of the abalone. Lambswool under the ewe… twins. Osprey wing feathers. Rattle snake eggs. The cliffs of Dover. Polar bear swimming across the Beaufort Sea… all alone. Lotus petals on a frog pond. A passing thought. I walk in Beauty. The Creation is perfect

THE VIRGIN OF THE BIRCH GROVE

This summer I had a profound awakening… a reconnection with the roots of who I truly am. My spiritual teacher took me to an island of paper birch trees on a northern lake in the boreal forest… asked me to press my cheek up to the cool bark & to listen to the trees talking. Skeptical, I approached. There were thirty trees…. each forty years old… They were lean…. muscular…. tall & very very white.  At first I though I was simply hearing the wind in the oscillating leaves. Wind after all is not the way a tree would talk. Wind is wind. Suddenly I was transformed. The trees swayed & danced. The roots spread below me… the branches above caressed each to each.The trees were talking all along… on that island where we seldom go. The Creation is infinitely more beautiful & intricate than I ever knew. How could I be so ignorant?  Human language is so limited by its definitions & labels. Of course trees talk to each other. How arrogant to think that language is some human prerogative. The only way to hear the speech of trees… or ants…. or loons… or cats…. is for once & for all to just stop talking… to be silent … & to hear….. to hear the true language of the Universe. It is all around, below, above …. within.