The Monastery Within

What is feeling without emotion?
Why even the question?
Why not the knowledge,
not necessitating the questioning pose?
Because it is strange, eerie,
and yet beautiful.
Where are my past thoughts, emotions,
sense of self?
Temporarily at least,
they are gone.
From where,
to where,
Certainly I know not.
O Wondrous One,
You have called me your son,
Your Beloved,
Or rather brought me closer
to The One that is such.
As I become more energetic
yet more full of repose
as a cell in his Mystical Organs.
My life feels over,
Or beginning again and again
each new second.
Clarity, in its way, is bizarre–
or perhaps we are so used to the insanity,
sanity seems crazed.
The world is my cell,
Form, materality, my school of service for the Lord.
The fourth wave and beyond,
my cloister.
As removed and detached in its own way,
from ancient walls and arcane hymns.

Published in: on February 19, 2005 at 5:01 pm  Leave a Comment  

The "Inbetweenies"

I have a lot of jealousy for my younger, “enlightened” friends. God is a child playing with our silly adult notions–for caprice even we might say.

I really am a spoiled brat when it comes to this stuff–like a spiritual Veruka Salt: “I want the world…”AND I WANT IT NOW.

I like to think of meditation as “exercising” all three bodies. No matter what there is ego. Even that relatively neutral label is chock full of the stuff. I mean, like physical exericse–I do more sets, more reps, feel better, look better, have a better self image. There is something inherently contradictory about achieving something which in turns makes one more humble. Yet, the self has a “right” or so to be healthy, to be sane, and to be relatively wiser.

Letting in recently that if the relative path is this mixture of Self and Other Power, then the absolute is FULLY SELF OR FULLY OTHER or neither. I.e. what if it is predetermined? Then I simply do what I am doing anyway, I guess. I “exercise” the three bodies, I try to practice greater sincerity in my relationships, wider and wider concern for others, and simply for time to time place myself in The Witness, feel the contraction, surrender everything to the Lord, give thanks in the midst of the sacrifice, and see if the miracle occurs.

It makes no sense really to talk about it–even in terms of re-cognition.

Lucid life,
flows through air, my nostrils, and eyeballs.
Consciousness alone,
trapped in the back of my head.
Free, unafraid, unmoved
in his pneumatic ivory tower.
The world “out there”,
unperturbed in its movements.
The relation un-understood,
not worth the discussion.
Much love and egotism,
Much mercy and self-centeredness,
A life different in kind
and yet mostly the same as others.
Relatively speaking,
I relate to the relation of relative truth
relatively well.
And so it goes.
Not much to hear from,
Not much said.
Not much embraced nor excluded.
Not profound
Not simple.

Published in: on February 12, 2005 at 3:30 pm  Leave a Comment