The sign of life is pulsation. 'Spanda' in Sanskrit.
From Spanda comes our word 'expand.' That which expands
must also contract, must pulse. That which does not pulse
cannot play, cannot live.
From Spanda comes our word 'expand.' That which expands
must also contract, must pulse. That which does not pulse
cannot play, cannot live.
Pulse is the nectar of creation, and the wine of health. Atoms,
hearts, moments of time, cycles of history, worlds and
galaxies, all bubble up and dissolve as the pulse of the Infinite.
Music is the pulse of silence, dance is the pulse of stillness,
art is the pulse of the formless. Spirit pulses into Matter.
Shiva pulses into Shakti.
hearts, moments of time, cycles of history, worlds and
galaxies, all bubble up and dissolve as the pulse of the Infinite.
Music is the pulse of silence, dance is the pulse of stillness,
art is the pulse of the formless. Spirit pulses into Matter.
Shiva pulses into Shakti.
If we are going to pulsate and live, we must not only know
how to act, but how to rest; not only how to swell, but how
to empty; how to listen as well as speak; how to be dark as
well as radiant.
how to act, but how to rest; not only how to swell, but how
to empty; how to listen as well as speak; how to be dark as
well as radiant.
We learn to rest between the pulses. Between our days.
Between our moments. Between our heartbeats. And right
in the midst of busy lives, to be so vulnerable that we can
fall into the gaps and silences, coming Om even for an instant,
which could be an instant of eternity, as we let go of Doing to
sink into Being.
Between our moments. Between our heartbeats. And right
in the midst of busy lives, to be so vulnerable that we can
fall into the gaps and silences, coming Om even for an instant,
which could be an instant of eternity, as we let go of Doing to
sink into Being.
But we get stuck in the mind, do we not? In dry abstractions,
brittle concepts. Whether religious or political, is the same
arid paralysis: lack of pulse. Weak pulse is dis-ease. The
organic vibrancy of our body goes numb. Confined to the
cage of the intellect, we have no juice, and cannot feel the
kiss of God.
brittle concepts. Whether religious or political, is the same
arid paralysis: lack of pulse. Weak pulse is dis-ease. The
organic vibrancy of our body goes numb. Confined to the
cage of the intellect, we have no juice, and cannot feel the
kiss of God.
Ideology will never save the world. Our world will be saved
by the call of a robin at dawn, the flavor of your grandmother's
mashed potatoes, the sting of dew on your bare feet. Whatever
the question is, the answer is not an idea. Nor will the answer
ever come as the conclusion of an argument.
by the call of a robin at dawn, the flavor of your grandmother's
mashed potatoes, the sting of dew on your bare feet. Whatever
the question is, the answer is not an idea. Nor will the answer
ever come as the conclusion of an argument.
The answer is returning to pulsation. When you are stuck in the
mind, drop those inflexible concepts and come home to what
pulsates, the rhythm that softens and expands our heart. This
life-giving pulse of Spanda need not be sensational or
dramatic. It could be as gentle and intimate as your next breath.
mind, drop those inflexible concepts and come home to what
pulsates, the rhythm that softens and expands our heart. This
life-giving pulse of Spanda need not be sensational or
dramatic. It could be as gentle and intimate as your next breath.
Fred LaMotte
~
Photo - Mandala Art
Mystic Meandering
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