The Blessing of the Deer - Jane Hirshfield

 

A house of a person
in age sometimes grows cluttered
with what is
too loved or too heavy to part with,
the heart may grow cluttered.
And still the house will be emptied,
and still the heart.

As the thoughts of a person
in age sometimes grow sparer,
like a great cleanness come into a room,
the soul may grow sparer;
one sparrow song carves it completely.
And still the room is full,
and still the heart.

Empty and filled,
like the curling half-light of morning,
in which everything is still possible...

Filled and empty,
like the curling half-light of evening,
in which everything now is finished...

Beloved, what can be, what was,
will be taken away from us.
I have disappointed.
I'm sorry.  I knew no better.

[.....]

This morning, out the window,
the deer stood like a blessing, then vanished.

Jane Hirshfield
Original title: "Standing Deer"

from The Lives of the Heart

~

Photo of Deer - Mystic Meandering

Aging's Different Light - Lisel Mueller

 

Doctor, you say there are no halos
around the streetlights in Paris
and what I see is an aberration
caused by old age, an affliction.
I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,
to soften the blur and finally banish
the edges you regret I don't see,
to learn that the line I called the horizon
does not exist, and sky and water,
so long apart, are the same state of being.
Fifty-four years before I could see
Rouen cathedral is built
of parallel shafts of sun,
and now you want to restore
my youthful errors: fixed
notions of top and bottom,
the illusion of three-dimensional space,
wisteria separate
from the bridge it covers.
What can I say to convince you
the Houses of Parliament dissolve
night after night to become
the fluid dream of the Thames?
I will not return to a universe
of objects that don't know each other,
as if islands were not the lost children
of one great continent.  The world
is flux, and light becomes what it touches,
becomes water, lilies on water,
above and below water,
becomes lilac and mauve and yellow
and white and cerulean lamps,
small fists passing sunlight
so quickly to one another
that it would take long, streaming hair
inside my brush to catch it.
To paint the speed of light!
our weighted shapes, these verticals,
burn to mix with air
and change our bones, skin and clothes 
to gases.  Doctor,
if only you could see
how heaven pulls earth into its arms
and how infinitely the heart expands
to claim this world, blue vapor without end.

Lisel Mueller
1924-2020

Original title - "Monet Refuses Operation"

~

This poem was written about the painter Claude Monet
who had cataracts.  When his doctor wanted to perform
cataract surgery, Monet refused.  He wanted to paint light.
He saw the blurred edges of everything as interconnection.

from Awakin.org

Photo - Mystic Meandering
street light through ice on window...

Aging Has Its Own Rhythm...

Legs ache, weak

I shuffle...

I struggle to climb the stairs...

Legs ache, weak
I stumble...

Existence here is getting unstable;
feeling vulnerable...

Legs ache, weak
I wobble...

My Soul and body call me to be still

Legs ache, weak

I hobble...

I must stop -
listen to the rhythm of my Soul;
find my inner balance again

Legs ache, weak
knees buckle...

I fall...

January 2024

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

I took this one night recently while "window sitting."

I turned around from the window and
couldn't help but notice
what lies ahead and what is now...

Aging has its own rhythm...

my new reality...

 

A Perspective on Impermanence - Ajahn Chah

Now you must learn to be satisfied with the many years
you've already depended on your body.  You should
feel that it's enough.

You can compare it to household utensils that you've had
for a long time - your cups, saucers, plates and so on.
When you first had them they were clean and shining,
but now after using them for so long, they're starting to
wear out.  Some are already broken, some have disappeared,
and those that are left are deteriorating: they have no stable
form, and it's their nature to be like that.  Your body is the
same way.  It has been continually changing right from the
day you were born, though childhood, and youth, until
now it has reached old age.

Allow the mind to let go of its attachments.  The time is ripe.

It's the same with your wealth, your possessions, and your
family - they are all yours only in name; they don't  really
belong to you, they belong to nature.

It's like the water of a river.  It naturally flows down the
gradient; it never flows against it, and that is its nature.

The time is ripe - find your real home.

Ajahn Chah
Thai Buddhist Monk

Excerpt from an article in Lions Roar

First published Jan. 1, 1994
by permission of the Abbot,
Wat Pah Nanachat,
Thailand

with thanks to The Beauty We Love

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

Snow owl on skylight

 

Pondering Impermanence...

The Eternal Being that inhabits the body is not aging -
but I am surprisingly surprised by the reality of the body's 
increasing decline: loss of memory, lack of stamina
and muscle functioning, etc...

I am on the off ramp and the inevitable dropping of the

body transition is surely coming...

Although grateful that the end of the body's struggles
is closer - (how close "she" doesn't know)
but wonders what that will be like;
to witness the death of her body
and the possibility of a 
"cosmic birthing" into a new "form"
of the Formless; or maybe dissolve back
into cosmic dust, or be absorbed by the
Vastness of the Eternal.
Sentience dissolving into the Eternal...

Who really knows...

All is transient here.
We're just passing through.
I shouldn't be surprised by this,
feeling the body's decline as I do -
but still -
every so often,
it gives me pause...

Mystic Meandering
2024

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

Drop Into Freedom...

In my decline I have lost track
of how things are "supposed" to be...
of how things are "supposed" to "work" -
like life...

of finding my way to wherever it is that
I'm "supposed" to be going.

Somehow I've lost my "keys"...

I have grown weary 
of how things are...
of what I'm "supposed" to be doing...
of taking responsibility for things
I'm not responsible for...

of attachments to things that used to be important...

of the body and its ailments and loss of functioning...
of the *ideas* of "awakening" and "enlightenment"...
who "awakens"?
what "enlightens"?
Does it really matter?

Is this how impermanence works?

You lose your keys to things that don't really matter
so that at some point it all falls away
in its importance,
and you are liberated *from*
false ideas and premises,
from hopes and dreams
that keep you bound,
and you "drop"
into
Freedom

Mystic Meandering

April 2, 2024

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering
Sri Yantra

 

Feeling Old - a meandering...

I feel old...

But I now enjoy sitting in "aloneness" in the
inner wilderness of silence - just being -
in an empty house without distraction;
with no need for "doing"...

I listen more deeply, and notice more;
like the ceiling fan, that's always been there,
creating a small breeze that caresses my skin.
(After all that's what it's for :))

I hear the sounds of nature merging with the
highway hum into one sound through the window
where I sit; and don't get irritated by 
a world of busyness breaking through the quietude,
sitting in the "aloneness" in the
inner wilderness of silence.

I breathe deeply into a deeper transcendent Silence within -
my comfort and solace.

I feel old...

When I catch my mirrored reflection
looking back at me...
I see an old woman in T-shirt and sweats.
(Well, fairly old :))
At least I still recognize her/me;
a shadow image of what I used to be...
With her old eyes, worn out body and bedraggled look...

I feel old...

When I have to pull out my deceased mother's old walker
from the closet to get to the bathroom at night,
easily losing my balance...

I somehow know I have begun
my end...

Unattached to physicality or self-image - yet still,
the reality of "endings" sets in...

I feel old...

Because the "spiritual questing" of my younger years
for "the truth", for the next "spiritual trinket", is gone.
(You notice I didn't say I'm "done." :))

Wanting only to rest in the Sacred Silence within;
that soothes this body and mind.

I feel old...

But I'm not ready for the rocking chair on the back porch,
although a hammock under the trees in the backyard 
would be nice - rocking to a melody by the Moody Blues
 while I watch the clouds and maybe even the stars -
knowing that even when
the owl calls my name
and this body is gone,
"I"
(well not "me" exactly, but you know what I mean)

"I" am still somewhere
in the Great Cosmos
that fills the space I leave...

Mystic Meandering
Aug 24, 2022

"In my end is my beginning" - T.S. Eliot

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

Keep Turning the Page...

Life is always as it is:
the tragedy, the heartbreak,
illness and death...
Joy and sorrow,
the politics, and the 
games that they play - oye...

I am like an old house now,
not yet abandoned
by its inhabitant,
but creaking and
falling apart...

Yet, I'm not ready to
pack up my life and
move out...
But I grieve the loss
of health and energy,
motivation and strength,
dexterity and nimbleness,
mental acuity, and emotional
bandwidth - and -
a sense of "Aliveness."
Fatigued by constant
distractions on the superficial surface
of life, creating chaos and agitation
that weigh heavy on my heart...

And so I pause
at the Inner Gate,
entrusting myself to,
and communing with the
deep Inner Silence of Being,
breathing me,
until my time here is up,
while life keeps turning its
pages, going from one chapter
to the next...

I bow to Grace...

Mystic Meandering

Aug 18, 2022

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

Traveling Toward Life - Richard Wehrman

He was surprised
to see the gray clouds,
for the sunrise was clear
with blue sky, and he
assumed, as he always had,
that the sky moved
as the sun moved, east
to west, yet here the clouds
came. traveling west to
east, and he thought of
the trajectory he imagined
his life took, of birth
to death, infancy to old age,
and he wondered if he
had missed something,
if the winds moved
differently than he supposed,
if death also traveled
toward life, if there were,
more currents than he
could imagine, and if
imagining itself, setting
a distinct course, one he
planned in advance, kept
him from seeing; if he
were at this moment
actually growing younger,
at the same time he grew
older; if he was in fact
moving in ways he could
barely sense, into another
life, into other worlds.

Richard Wehrman
From: Being Here
Original title: "Traveling"

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

The Horizon of Life - Halifax & Willis

Our priorities shift as we see the horizon of life that is the
threshold of death...

Joan Halifax
Zen Buddhist
Director of Upaya Center
Author of Being with Dying

~

At the end of life or if we become sick, [or in the aging process]
we begin to let go of the roles that previously offered significance,
status and definition; the losses of position, responsibilities,
self-image, etc.  We become informed by internal rather than external
 concerns.  How we work with these losses and still find meaning
 will shape and inform how we close our lives...

Claire B. Willis LICSW

From - Lasting Words

~

I interviewed a woman who was terminally ill.

'So', I tried delicately to ask, 'What is it like to wake up every
morning and know that you are dying?

'Well', she responded, 'What is it like to wake up every morning
and pretend that you are not?'"

-unknown

 

The Time Is Ripe - Ajahn Chah

Now you too must learn to be satisfied with the many years
you've already depended on your body.  You should feel that
it's enough.

You can compare it to household utensils that you've had for
a long time - your cups, saucers, plates and so on.  When you
first had them they were clean and shining, but now after using
them for so long, they're starting to wear out. Some are already
broken, some have disappeared, and those that are left are
deteriorating: they have no stable form, and it's their nature
to be like that.  Your body is the same way.  It has been
continually changing right from the day you were born,
through childhood and youth, until now it has reached old age.

Allow the mind to let go of its attachments.  The time is ripe.

Even if your house flooded or burnt to the ground, whatever
the danger that threatens it, let it concern only the house.  If
there's a flood, don't let it flood your mind.  If there's a fire,
don't let it burn your heart.  Let it be merely the house, that
which is external to you, that is flooded and burned.  Allow
the mind to let go of its attachments.
The time is ripe.

It is the same with your wealth, your possessions, and your
family -  they are all yours only in name; they don't really 
belong to you, they belong to nature.

It's like the water of a river.  It naturally flows down the
gradient; it never flows against it, that is its nature.  If a
person were to go and stand on a river bank and, seeing the
water flowing  swiftly down its course, foolishly want it to
flow back up the gradient, he would suffer.  Whatever he was
doing, his wrong thinking would allow him no peace of mind.
He would be unhappy because of his wrong view, thinking
against the stream.

Find your real home...

Ajahn Chah

With thanks to The Beauty We Love

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

A Winter Morning - Joan Tollifson

 The pond is frozen over
the world is upside down.
In my old age,
I discover the magic
of childhood.

Without my glasses,
a softer world
blurs together.
Houses hide in the fog,
mountains drop out of the sky.

On naked branches
the last dry leaves
twirl in the cold wind,
leaves and sky indistinguishable.

It is the winter of my life
the great stripping away
the last leaves letting go,
falling into
the dazzling darkness

Joan Tollifson

with thanks to No Mind's Land

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

The World in Different Light - Lisel Mueller

Doctor, you say there are no haloes
around the streetlights in Paris
and what I see is an aberration
caused by old age, an affliction.

I tell you it has taken me all my life
to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels,
to soften and blur and finally banish
the edges you regret I don't see,
to learn that the line I called the horizon
does not exist and sky and water,
so long apart, are the same state of being.

Fifty-four years before I could see
Rouen cathedral is built
of parallel shafts of sun,
and now you want to restore
my youthful errors: fixed
notions of top and bottom,
the illusion of three-dimensional space,
wisteria separate
from the bridge it covers.

What can I say to convince you
the Houses of Parliament dissolve
night after night to become
the fluid dream of the Thames?
I will not return to a universe
of objects that don't know each other,
as if islands were not the lost children
of one great continent.  The world
is flux, and light becomes what it touches,
becomes water, lilies on water,
above and below water,
becomes lilac and mauve and yellow
and white and cerulean lamps,
small fists passing sunlight
so quickly to one another
that it would take long, streaming hair
inside my brush to catch it.
To paint the speed of light!
Our weighted shapes, these verticals,
burn to mix with air
and change our bones, skin, clothes
to gases.  Doctor,
if only you could see
how heaven pulls earth into its arms
and how infinitely the heart expands
to claim this world, blue vapor without end.

Lisel Mueller
1924-2020

Original title - "Monet Refuses Operation"

"Her poems are 'a testament to the miraculous power
of language to interpret and transform our world'
and 'a testament that invites readers to share her vision
of experiences we all have in common: sorrow,
tenderness, desire, the revelations of art, and
mortality - 'the hard dry smack of death against the glass'"
(Washington Post)

Lisel Mueller was a German born American Poet.
Her family fled the Nazi regime in 1939 when she was 15.
She worked as a translator and academic teacher.  She
began writing poetry in the 1950's, publishing her first
collection in 1965.

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering
street light through ice on window...

The Winter of Life...

You know, I discovered recently that time has a way of
catching us unaware...

Even though spiritually speaking "time" is only a construct,
the body lives in a time-bound reality, subject to "time"
and deterioration...

I meandered into my 70's last October,
eyesight diminished, and hard of hearing -
What?  Are you talkin' to me?
Guess that means hearing aids...
Are you kidding me!? - resistance set in...

But here it is...  The Winter of my life has arrived,
catching me a little off guard.  I don't know why,
I see it in my hands...

It was as if some switch went off (or on) in my body
 when I turned 70 that whispered -  "body - old."

I could feel it in my body.  Actually, I felt my body
beginning to wind down years ago, but 70 was more
distinct, more of a palpable - "click" - as if time
started counting down - in earnest.

And then there was a fall in November,
a stumble that laid me up for a month!
And then some kind of respiratory "flu" in
December - the cough lasting 6 weeks!
All taking its toll on the body.
Even though I know "I" am not my body -
still...  it's wearing out;
this vehicle that has carried me this far...

Others have told me aging is all in your head.
meaning the mind.
But, the mind is going too!  Acuity left when
I wasn't looking, and memory is fogged in.
Maybe I'll forget that I'm getting old. :)
That's the biggest shocker - feeling old,
and not remembering things...

Scary

The furniture seems a little lower than it was;
harder to get up... toilet too.
It's harder to get around - stiffness has replaced
what fluidity I knew.  The grey hair has set in
around the edges.  And I see where I'm headed in
the faces of other "older women" now...

I wonder - will this "aging" affect my sense of
"knowing" the "Spirit" that animates this body?
"The Mystery", the Ineffable, Pure Awareness,
Consciousness, The Silence, "God", the Self;
however one calls IT.

Will I forget it all - that I've tried so hard to
remember...

That's my biggest "anxiety" -
If I "lose" my mind
will I remember Who "I" Really Am -
the Essence of "me"...

Do I even know that now...

Mystic Meandering
Jan. 24, 2020

~

There is a touching innocence in
the mystery of the human self.
Even after thousands of years of
experience and reflection,
we still remain a mystery to ourselves.
There is something deeply unpredictable
and unfathomable.
...Even when you approach yourself tenderly
with the candle of receptive and reverential
seeing, all you achieve is a glimpse...

John O'Donohue
from - Eternal Echoes

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

Crossing a Threshold...

I am about to cross a threshold into 63…  The numbers don’t bother me actually.  It’s the little things that are happening in this body and mind…  I’m actually surprised I made it this far!    Someone once told me that age is all in the mind.  But they don’t live in my body. J   That was flawed even before birth – leaving life-long malfunctioning of the mechanism.  We all have our physical issues, right…  And so at 63 I find the body more challenging to live in…  And the mind is losing its words, using wrong words, unable to articulate like I used to – finding blank spaces where words once were. Like in the previous post, I used the word obtuse instead of obscure, and furtive for fertile… I have since corrected them – and hoped you wouldn’t notice J - but still – words sometimes evade me.   Interesting experience.  Life as I’ve known it is winding down.  I’ve felt this for the last decade – this slowing down of the body mechanism.  Resisting it, or denying it, is like trying to hold back the inevitable.  And so I accept, adapt and refocus – well sometimes… J   Most days I’m just stiff, achy and fatigued – and forget who I really am – and I don’t mean my name J - but who I am at the core of Being – Being ItSelf – because I am preoccupied with the body…

63 is feeling more and more like a crossroads of some kind internally, more than any other threshold that I can remember, and even that ability is getting thin.   But it can’t be “business as usual” any longer.  I cannot spend time on what does not enrich and enliven.   And I must dive deep to find it…

There are deep internal rumblings of something wanting to emerge – to be seen, faced, acknowledged, recognized, even birthed…  There is still something here that wants to *Live* to be *enlivened* - a passion for Life - although felt less frequently.  The internal “shadows” seem deeper and longer in this waning time, as if there is still unfinished business – a deep wound that still needs healing… I know it is still the wound of separation.  Although some would tell me that’s all in my mind as well… J

 No matter what “spiritual path” or how much “spiritual practice” I do, or moments of “awakening” and “non-dual awareness” I experience, there is still a deep heartache and longing for “The Beloved” - for “Home”  -  to return to the root of what I’ve been longing for all my life, since childhood –  the Truth of Existence.  It has been my driving force.  No matter how much I read, or intellectually understand that I’m “already there”, and that there’s nothing to search for, nowhere to go, no “returning”, IT has to be realized, IT has to be *known* intimately through direct experience – apparently over and over again. J  The Self is still calling ItSelf back to ItSelf – back to full Awareness…

As long as it is there – this call - I will follow the longing of the Heart, and dive deep into the depths of Being – like the root of the Lotus…   Several years ago I had a “vision” in meditation of the long root of the Lotus going all the way down through the depths of the water to the bottom.  I didn’t understand what I was seeing then, but I see it now as a call into the depths of Being, to follow the root of Being all the way in.    This is my true threshold to cross – no matter how old… 

“Go IN & IN & IN
until you come to the pure Self - luminous,
the place of pure Being.
Return to the root…
Become aware of who is Seeing…
Go back & back to who you really are – Spirit.
The “final door” is going from form to formless -
Beyond the beyond – the eternally Quiet.

You have to go all the way back before you see
that behind all ‘this’ there is all this in its OM,
its unmanifested form -
seeing the OMness of everything…
Live consciously in all of it,
seeing the OMness of it all…”

Ram Dass