It’s one of those beautiful days. The blue of the sky feels like a brand-new declaration. The subtle hue variation can only be seen by those paying close attention with all their senses. That magical moment when the impression stamps an impact on that elusive sense … the sense of knowing that what you’re experiencing is absolutely perfect. You and the sky and your whole being have a deep and life-changing conversation with that blue; that vapour-shield between the Earth and infinity. Nothing is more important than right now.
Then the mirror opens wider and you realise that even if it were raining you’d be feeling the same way. You’d be entranced and enraptured watching the rain strike your window, desperate to make contact with your skin. You might even go out and dance naked to meet it in all your aliveness. You’d risk the bolts of lightning and let the thunder shake you to your core. You simply trust your place in the world.
It’s not the blue sky that’s dictating my joy. It’s joy itself meeting the reality experienced in this vessel called ‘me’. Then the focus ricochets from me, to tree, to bee, to sea, to the cup of tea before ‘me’. And there is nowhere to hide from the ineffable tsunami of miracles. Just one choice right now to dive deep into that feeling where everything feels right. Where there is no argument with life. Just the many volumes of silence participating in a symphony called, ‘emergence’.
I make promises from behind the altar of this sacred church. I proclaim that I will never leave this sanctuary. I will remain faithful to this freedom. I’m in awe of how I got here. But right here, right now is where I am. A cockroach appears and I can’t believe how shiny and meticulously well-polished its suit of armour is. Right now, my nemesis is a sweet and dignified little creature. And those autumnal copper reds … so perfect that I decide I will paint the garden wall in honour of this knight’s shining armour.
I use my breath to help expand this exquisite Satori. Satori (悟り) is a Japanese Buddhist term for awakening, “comprehension; understanding”. Satori refers to the experience of ‘kenshō’, seeing into one’s true nature.
The mirror dissolves and a large wave of emptiness and fullness dissolve within and without me. Oneness is my name. When language arrives like a magnificent geometrical snowflake, all descriptions and soundbites are motivated by the desire to share this experience, to write about it, to express it, to write this … the snowflake begins to melt.
The mirror reappears. And my true nature and all of nature are reflected in its siren song surface. There’s a faint glow of oneness and then there’s my mind. Then there’s me and a blue sky and a barrage of thought and interlinked logic that pricks me into my daily life and habitual identification with ‘my’ problems. And now the inevitable regret for what I had and lost. The retracing of my steps to get it back. Berating myself for not knowing how to hold on to it … the reprimand is relentless.
It’s one of those beautiful days. The blue of the sky feels like a brand-new declaration of yet more drought. The subtle hue variation mocks the farmers and the crops. The impression stamps an impact on that elusive sense … the sense of anxiety and hopelessness. What you’re experiencing and interpreting is absolutely futile. You and the sky and your whole being have a deep and life-changing conversation with that blue; that vapour-shield between the Earth and infinity. You might even shed a tear in despair.
I Pause, I Breathe
I turn my beaten brow towards the Earth and wait. I pause. I stop engagement with the new arguments that my mind wants to goad me into. I breathe. I breathe. I breathe. I lean into some old faithfuls …
“This too will pass.”
“Surrender to what is.”
“I am always in control of what happens within me.’’
“Never give up on the path of awakening.”
Like a captured bird too long in the cage … I don’t always notice that the door is forever open. I turn my somewhat soothed brow towards my smartphone and Google …
“What’s the name of that brilliantly ordinary poem about the human condition and our relationship towards life?” I know the answer is in the last line. I know it’s about the miracles in the ordinary. I know it makes me feel eager and curious. I know it tempers my troubled mind. I know it invites me over and over, back into the conversation of life. Not two people having a conversation, but one burst of light engaging with all other bursts of light – one white light. That’s it … how could I have forgotten … It’s Whyte, David Whyte’s, ‘Everything is Waiting for You’.
Everything is Waiting for You by David Whyte (After Derek Mahon)
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the
conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
What are some of the strategies you use when your mind is telling you lies? When even when you know you’re being led down the wrong path you seem convinced you’re powerless and must surrender to a false will? It’s always great to collect a bank of resources to call upon in tough times. What are some of yours … friends, poems, nature, nooks, family, pets?
We’d love to hear from you!
Much love and recognition of your divine perfection.