"I sense this Mystery" - Rilke & MM

“No one lives his life…

Disguised since childhood,

haphazardly assembled
from voices and fears
and little pleasures,
we come of age
as masks…

~

And though we strain against the deadening grip
of daily necessity…
I sense there is this mystery.

All life is being lived.

Who is living it then?

Is it the things themselves,
or something waiting inside them,
like an unplayed melody in a flute?

Is it the winds blowing over the waters?

Is it the branches that signal to each other?

Is it the flowers
interweaving their fragrances,
or streets, as they wind through time?

Is it animals, warmly moving,
or the birds that suddenly rise up?

Who lives it, then?

God, are you the one
who is living life?”

Rainer Maria Rilke

~*~

Life is the movement of “The Mystery.”

Life is the manifestation of “The Mystery.”

Life itself is “The Mystery” in movement with Itself,
 as Itself in form.

We are held in the embrace of “The Mystery.”

It wants to be known and seen.

It wants to play in the seeing of Itself.

In looking into “The Mystery” there is a sense of intimacy.

There is only deep, deep Love looking back.

We are held in the intimate gaze of “The Mystery”,

like the intimate gaze of lovers seeing into each other,

seeing beyond each other, seeing beyond the persona,
the mask, into the depths of Pure Being...

Mystic Meandering
Meditative Writings

January 2009

Struggle...

Is there a threshold to cross over?

What is the threshold that takes us into
a deeper Reality?

Can we cross it…
or are we forever imprisoned
in the cocoon of time,
when we know there is something more,
because we have seen it, felt it, intuited it;
something timeless beyond human existence
with its pain, sorrow and suffering;
even beyond fleeting happiness;
even beyond what some call
”the awakened life” –
if we are fortunate enough to
experience whatever that is …

How can “i” continue on “here” – “i” wonder daily,
struggling…
immersed in the “i” dramas;
grasping, clinging,

wanting something,
something that would forever awaken this Heart
to the Bliss of Eternal Reality…

The Eternal Vastness beckons…

But “i” continue to struggle;
the body struggles to relax and live,
the mind struggles to be at peace,
the heart struggles to stay open and Love,
the “i” struggles within
to sustain its identity,
still attached to the idea
of itself,
of its importance…

How can it be so…
If all there is, is “God”,
that is – Pure Consciousness, Pure Awareness,
Pure Beingness…
Then why does this “i” struggle
in ignorance,
keeping itself trapped in time,
and in the mind…

Am “i” forever cowled to the Truth,
unable to pierce the veil,
or find the Holy Grail…?

If “i” already have,
”i” keep forgetting,
and struggle to remember…

Maybe it will never happen -
the “awakening.”
And the glimpses i’ve had
will only remain a forgotten memory,
like a dream…

I am so ready to leave the struggles behind
for the privilege of experiencing
the Unknown,
The Mystery that waits
in the Depths of Silence…

Mystic Meandering
April 22, 2015

~~~Post Script~~~

Having said all that, written one morning in a period of struggle,
dealing with intense physical issues,

 and extremely dysfunctional family issues,

I know that the “Threshold” is through the inner

 Sanctuary Door of Silence…

 In the depths of Silence
we become aware of the Intimacy with Infinite Silence -
the Pure Primal Existence,
the Realm of “the Beloved”– if you will –
The Primordial Womb of Stillnes;
not “out there” somewhere, but “in here”

where there is only The Rhythm of Sacred Silence,
as I have so often written about here in this blog…

In the deep fluid flow of Silence
there is no struggle...
because there is no little “i”
with its issues,

only the Ineffable Mystery
that infuses everything,
and lives everything
in Silence…

~~

Photo/Art: Loon Morning
Artist: Rod MacIver
 from: Heron Dance Art Studio

www.herondance.org

Inward Turning...

Turn
inward
towards ME,
”The Beloved;”
the Face of your Self;
the Light in your Heart;
the space of Pure Awareness…

Turn from the voices of the unconscious,
- the land of the living dead -
the voices of confusion, hatred, violence;
the ones who distract
you from *knowing*
the Truth…

~ Turn ~

~

~ Turn ~

Turn and Listen

in
deep
Silence,

in
the
Chalice
of the Heart

until you hear
what needs
to be heard
in your
Heart.

~

Turn inward from the stimulation
of life being “sold” to the masses;
with its false delusions of the Real;
including the “spirituality” vendors,
who sell you their “frameworks”
to keep you seeking, striving,
believing you need more,
leaving you empty…

Come – sit with ME.

Sit in solitude
with ME…
Hearing,
Seeing,
Aware-ing,
Knowing ME.

Silently
Listening
within

where
“I”
thrive
in
the

S
i
l
e
n
c
e


~ Turn ~


“I” (The Beloved) am Here…

~

Mystic Meandering
Oct. 16, 2011

~

Photo ~

In looking for a photo for this post, I found this one in my files.
It is a picture of the September Full Moon (2011)
through the skylight.
What captured my attention when I saw the photo
was the reflection of what appears to be an “inner window” 
or door.  You can see a square like image to the right of the
ball of light. 
I did not notice this when I took the photo,
but only saw this afterward, and after turning the photo :)
In a sense it is what this poem is about –
 turning and going inward,
metaphorically through the inner window/door.
Just sitting, turning inward to the Sanctuary of Silence,
and meeting that spacious Awareness
that is always there…

Remembering...

Sitting in the Sanctuary
 of Silence,

the deep space of
Formlessness
keeps pulling me in,

enticing me to
remember,

to
 listen
D
E
E
p
L
Y

.

.

.

In this space of Pure Awareness,
beyond thought,
I can *feel* the intimacy of Silence
once again;

The organic Rhythm,
immersed in its Quiet flow…
Out of which all movement arises
and takes form…

Formlessness-Form
Form-Formlessness,
Not two – yet not one;
not either/or
but
both/and

The Ineffable Mystery

I sometimes call it “The Beloved.”
It has many names –
 this Aware Silence,
this Hush of the Mystery
that we are,
that we emerged from,
Life ItSelf;
and is no-name as well…

The Unknown…

In this Sea of Silence
I remember the feel of
 ITs Rhythm;
the transparency and
 boundarylessness

 of its endless S p a c i o u s n e s s
that Just IS…

The Mystery of Life living ItSelf

in/as
the vast
and
rhythmic
pulse of Living Silence…

 recognizing ItSelf as “me”,
and “me” recognizing It
as my

Self

I had forgotten
this Sacred Silence
that knows us intimately
as ItSelf…

Our pain, sorrow, grief;
our laughter and joy,
are inexplicably
ITs own

Inseparable

It knows our shadow
and embraces
all darkness
as ITs own -
because
 IT is -
ITs own

Light…

that knows
no darkness

The grief, the loss,
the sadness, the suffering,
the woundings…

All ITs own;
feeling what we feel,
experiencing what we experience
as ItSelf…

Ever-present
Ever-aware
Ever-open
to all experience

Not a cold, conceptual
hollow vacuum of Nothingness…

But the V a s t n e s s of Life ItSelf,
 intimately living ItSelf…
OMing pre-Existence into Existence…
Breathing ItSelf into Life -
into every wound of pain
and suffering
with ITs soft caress…

Aware Living Silence

knows our Hearts
as Its own,
and dances with
Joy
in
the
delight
of
knowing
it

.

.

.

I had forgotten THIS…
The feel of this deep intimacy
in ITs complete and utter Embrace;
ITs total enfoldment;
ITs  inclusiveness
of all that we are;
forgotten the once known
innocence of
being touched
by the

Vastness
and
Depth
of

S i l e n c e

Mystic Meandering
April 11, 2015



Photo: Clouds and Contrails

Confusion - Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee

“There is no end to this dynamic mystical journey

that leads to the beyond…

The wayfarer has to learn to leave behind the old understanding
and allow what is new to become known…

The journey Home has another dimension,
a deeper direction.
I have had to face the illusion of my own journey,
how I was caught in certain convictions,
especially spiritual convictions.

Now I sense something else,
a swirling quality
that carries
confusion,
chaos,
and
freedom

Always the journey, [&] the path changes.
Always we are thrown into something
beyond what we might have expected.

Now I sense something else,
something that was always at the borders
of consciousness…
and yet avoided in its intensity.
A quality of chaos envelopes me from within…
the chaos of life
and what is beyond life…

Where does the path go,
what strange byways does it follow?
Always we look for a sense of direction.
Are we going Home?

Is this the right path?
Are we in tune?

But the path is much deeper
and more ancient than any sense of direction.
It belongs to the timeless inner dimension…

~

There is a choice…
We can follow the ego
with all its subtleties of
self-defense.

We can walk away from our heart’s call…
And so the path dissolves,
its urgency hidden,
its demand neglected….

But how can the path ever be lost?

The path is a strange creature,
full of the unexpected,
born from the unexpected,
attempting to take us into the
unknown,
into the unknowable.

And always we want the security
of knowing,
and so our fear of the dark
betrays us...

What is this path,
this empty way?

There is a heartache,
a call,
and a sigh that comes from
the depth.

These are the signs,
but where do they lead?

Why do we expect something
tangible…?

Why do we look for
reassurance
when we stand at the water’s edge?

Follow your heart’s call – but where?

Deep within we sense the terror of an endless night
and will make sure that our path skirts around this
desolate place.
We may hear the phrase
”to die before you die,”
but what do we know of this ultimate desolation?

The path will take us to the water’s edge,
and may even provide us with the illusion
of a boat, with the fantasy of a further shore,
but really these are just mind games and
psychological gimmicks.
There is no spiritual board game,
no path to enlightenment,
because “The Beloved”
comes “like a thief in the night”…

~

Why do we look for answers?
Why do we try to dress with the right clothes
for the journey, the correct spiritual attitude,
when we need to be unprotected?

So many stories have been told,
books written, pictures painted,
and always we skirt around the edge,
frightened of facing the depth
of our longing….

Sorrow, endless sorrow is what we are given to work with,
to open us, to take us, to silence us…
This endless sorrow has oceans of joy
hidden within it, the joy that is life itself,
the hidden face of creation.

This joy is not a flimsy alternative to life,
not life skating on the surface,
but the intensity of emptiness
pouring into form,
“The Beloved”
manifesting.

Hungry for what is Real,
we know neither our self
nor the chaos that awaits us.
We like to think we are spiritual seekers,
lovers, wayfarers…

But what is there to name?

Those who remain behind carry names;
they carry banners of their own inner development,
their spiritual or worldly success.
They know who they are, and are
resplendit in their own recognition.

The lost are not like this;

all they have known is emptiness
and a hunger.

Maybe they have had experiences,
glimpses of the beyond.
But the real journey is beyond
any such knowing,
is too simple to be explained,

too ordinary to be noticed,
and far too intense to be talked about.

There are things that can never be said,
perhaps because they are too intimate,
too painful, too bewildering, or just
unspeakable…

It is not someone else’s experience,
but a vortex of undoing
into which I am drawn
or thrown.”

Excerpts from: Fragments of a Love Story

Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee
Sufi Mystic



Please Note: I have taken excerpts from various pages
in the book, putting them together in the form of this prose poem.


Photo: Vortex Art