Elbow on the sill again,
unable to sleep…
It’s been a while since
I’ve come to the window
in the middle of the night
to taste the Silence…
I’ve come to the window
in the middle of the night
to taste the Silence…
I immediately feel
the *Presence*…
Not just the silence of the night,
or the silence of nature,
but the True Silence
that breathes everything
and permeates all life…
the *Presence*…
Not just the silence of the night,
or the silence of nature,
but the True Silence
that breathes everything
and permeates all life…
True Silence is a balm;
True Silence *is* Love;
True Silence is the Friend;
is the Presence of The Beloved
that soothes my heart’s deep grief
for an inexplicable loss at the edge of time…
True Silence *is* Love;
True Silence is the Friend;
is the Presence of The Beloved
that soothes my heart’s deep grief
for an inexplicable loss at the edge of time…
Sometimes I can only feel this Presence when
wrapped *in* the Silence that permeates the night;
sitting at the second story window,
when there is only
The Quiet
in the air – breathing.
My troubled heart empties out as
it allows itself to be breathed.
it allows itself to be breathed.
My eyes scan the landscape
in the darkness
making out the familiar
silhouetted images of
houses, trees, and fence lines;
house lights in the distance,
shining their warm, inviting glow;
and the ever-burning
streetlights
in the darkness
making out the familiar
silhouetted images of
houses, trees, and fence lines;
house lights in the distance,
shining their warm, inviting glow;
and the ever-burning
streetlights
waiting to light some midnight
wanderer's way…
wanderer's way…
I have missed sitting in the
window,
entraining with the Sacred Silence in the night
where the deep internal kiss of Silence is felt
as the breeze wafts through the window,
letting me know “She” is here…
entraining with the Sacred Silence in the night
where the deep internal kiss of Silence is felt
as the breeze wafts through the window,
letting me know “She” is here…
In the deep Silence I know that I
am Home…
In the Sacred Silence that fills the night
the Unknowable has made ItSelf known…
I have encountered the Ineffable
in the breeze, in the darkness,
In the Sacred Silence that fills the night
the Unknowable has made ItSelf known…
I have encountered the Ineffable
in the breeze, in the darkness,
in the window, in the silence ~
as Silence.
as Silence.
The Silence
behind the silence…
behind the silence…
My whole being resonates with Its
subtle vibration;
the alive, tangible
breath of the Mystery.
subtle vibration;
the alive, tangible
breath of the Mystery.
What is left to say really…
Nothing
Only to be silent in the Presence
of Silence,
bowing internally
bowing internally
in recognition of the
Great Silence;
opening the Heart
to Its
In-spiration
Great Silence;
opening the Heart
to Its
In-spiration
Mystic Meandering
July 17, 2015
July 17, 2015
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In August 2011 I started a
“practice” that I called
“Window Sitting.”
“Window Sitting.”
I would come to the open window in
my office around midnight
and just sit…listening in the Quiet of the night.
I would turn and face out the window, leaning on the window sill,
left elbow at the sill, leaning into the screen, as if out into the night,breathing in the night air and the silence…
It became a way of deeply listening to the Inner Silence as well.
It was a way, other than sitting on the cushion to meditate, to
rendezvous with deep Silence – the space of Pure Awareness,
pure Beingness, and I have often referred to it as meeting
”The Beloved.”
and just sit…listening in the Quiet of the night.
I would turn and face out the window, leaning on the window sill,
left elbow at the sill, leaning into the screen, as if out into the night,breathing in the night air and the silence…
It became a way of deeply listening to the Inner Silence as well.
It was a way, other than sitting on the cushion to meditate, to
rendezvous with deep Silence – the space of Pure Awareness,
pure Beingness, and I have often referred to it as meeting
”The Beloved.”
It’s a space where I become more
aware of that Inner Presence.
I often scribble notes on scratch paper in near darkness when
The Silence sings to my Heart, which often becomes prose poems
such as the one above. I put no artificial light on.
I often scribble notes on scratch paper in near darkness when
The Silence sings to my Heart, which often becomes prose poems
such as the one above. I put no artificial light on.
Or if The Silence is silent, I
bask in the Rhythm of Silence
being intimately aware of The Silence that is Life…
The Nameless Unknown that permeates everything…
The practice lasted until winter of that year when it was too cold
to open the window, and started again the next May, but due to
circumstances beyond my control, it only occurred sporadically over a few months.
being intimately aware of The Silence that is Life…
The Nameless Unknown that permeates everything…
The practice lasted until winter of that year when it was too cold
to open the window, and started again the next May, but due to
circumstances beyond my control, it only occurred sporadically over a few months.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
