The Playground of Life...

We are "The Mystery" come into being...
Consciousness awakened...
Self replicating ItSelf;
or whatever word you give
"The Mystery"...

"The Mystery" dressed up as "me."
Formless as form,
Form as formlessness.
"Divine" and human intertwined...

Opening to "The Mystery"
we are free to be our unique selves,
however defined...

When we know this
"something" wakes up inside
and comes Alive -
it hums...

Everything is
~ humming ~

playing in the play of Life;
a multitude of expressions
all playing together
in this virtual reality...

"The Mystery" playing you, playing me,
each a reflection of the other...
both "The Mystery" playing ItSelf...

When we let go of conceptual words
and frameworks of belief and interpretations
we are just FREE...

Letting go of the non-dual concepts of
i/I, me and "no me", Self/no-self,
we are just Life living ItSelf here...
We are being LIVED

as we are.

There is something authentic
in allowing myself to be
just as i am...

Life is met from a different space -
the space of vast openness
to "The Mystery" of Life ItSelf,
where everything is embraced
as it is...

The deep grief and sadness of loss,
the laughter and joy of new birth,
the physical pain and psychological drama
of being human...

All dancing together in the playground of Life...

Mystic Meandering
2019/2024

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

Wait for the Empty Playground - Li-Young Lee

 Wait for evening.
Then you'll be alone.

Wait for the playground to empty.
Then call out those companions from childhood:

The one who closed his eyes
and pretended to be invisible.
The one to whom you told every secret.
The one who made a world of any hiding place.

And don't forget the one who listened in silence
while you wondered out loud:

Is the universe an empty mirror?  A flowering tree?

Is the universe the sleep of a woman?

Wait for the sky's last blue
(the color of your homesickness).

Then you'll know the answer.

Wait for the air's first gold (that color of Amen).
Then you'll spy the wind's barefoot steps.

Then you'll recall that story beginning
with a child who strays in the woods.

The search for him goes on in the growing
shadow of the clock.

And the face behind the clock's face
is not his father's face.

And the hands behind the clock's hands
are not his mother's hands.

All of Time began when you first answered
to the names your mother and father gave you.

Soon, those names will travel with the leaves.
Then, you can trade places with the wind.

Then you'll remember your life
as a book of candles,
each page read by the light of its own burning.

Li-Young Lee

Poem: "Become Becoming"

From: Behind My Eyes

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering