Confessions of a Wanderer - Fred LaMotte

The grail knights thought it a disgrace to quest in a group.
So each entered the forest where there was no path, and
where it was darkest.

La Queste del Saint Graal, 13th C.

Up until age seven, I wandered.  Then I began to buy the
propaganda of my school.  The teachers insisted that if
I wanted to grow up I had better get life all figured out, and
learn to be a success.  Of course, they were just passing along
to the next generation their own fear of failure.

Took me the next half century to realize that they were pretending.
Absolutely every adult I met was pretending to know.  Over the
years I too pretended, and played the role of knower.  So that I
could be a successful doer.

Now I know that I don't know.  And the more I don't know, I know
who I am.  And the more I do.  Because it is not the do-er who
does, but Being.

If you've found the true path, congratulations, please don't guide
me. If you've found the movement that will finally save
humanity, congratulations: please don't sign me up.  Because
what I have found is the courage to wander again.

I have abandoned the compass technique.  Now I enter the ancient
forest precisely where the trees are unfelled.  I have no desire to
super-impose my map of consolation over this unfathomably mystery.

.....The blossom of Correct Teaching withers away, we are the
fragrance that remains.  Just by admitting we know nothing, we
sigh together and breathe life.

Letting go of our search, we meet each other where we get lost, 
and arrive at our destination.

Fred LaMotte

Uradiance

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering
Full Moon July 2022

 

Sacred Darkness - Fred LaMotte

Darkness is not the absence of light.
Darkness is the womb of light.
Darkness has nothing to do
with evil.
It is the deepest good.
Darkness is not despair
but the peace where joy begins
as a hidden seed
of self-enfolding.

A bud wrapped in darkness
to protect its golden petals
from the frost,
a chrysalis cocooned in darkness
to protect its rainbow wings
from the storm,
your tears rapt in shadows
to ripen before they fall.
The void is moist and fertile.
There, stars shine
because of the blackness
between them.
The Sun reconceived
on the longest evening 
of the year.

The New Moon an embryo
floating in holiness,
radiance sheathed
in the unseen maternity
of night.

Honor the ache
of your desolation.
Feel the darkness breathe
and kick in your belly,
down where you would not go.
This exhalation will lead you
to the pulse of divine
Unknowing.
For darkness is not
the absence of light.
Darkness is the mother of fire.

Fred LaMotte

Uradiance

 

Unknowableness - Richard Wehrman

He searched for certainty
in an uncertain world;
he looked at the unseen,
and since it was unseen,
sought to bring it near,
to refine its sharpness,
to make it holdable, to
find tangibility.  His
efforts all failed; he sought
to make water solid, to 
give soul a distinct form,
to quantify love so that
he could hold it in a box,
to carry it with him.

His efforts all failed.
With every new attempt
he saw the outcome, his
patterns became transparent,

yet he still walked  familiar
paths; only old age
seemed to offer help, taking
away his capacities; the
way one thing became
another, without his knowing
how.  Only unknowableness
seemed to offer any
way in, to bring him,
unexpectedly, relief from
his mind.

Richard Wehrman
From: Being Here

~  

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

What I Must Tell Myself - David Whyte

[.....]

I have only this breath
and this presence
for my wings
and they carry me
in my body
whatever I do
from one hushed moment
to another.

I know my innocence
and I know my unknowing
but for all my successes
I go through life
like a blind child
who cannot see,
arms outstretched
trying to put together
a world.

[.....]

Watching the geese
go south I find
that
even in silence
and
even in my home
alone
without a thought
or a movement
I am part
of a great migration
that will take me to another place.

[.....]

When one things dies all things
die together, and must live again
in a different way,
when one thing
is missing everything is missing,
and must be found again
in a new whole
and everything wants to be complete,
everything wants to go home
and the geese travelling south
are like the shadow of my breath
flying into the darkness
on great heart-beats
to an unknown land where I belong.

David Whyte
Excerpts from - "What I Must Tell Myself"
From: The House of Belonging

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

Spiritual Egos - Fred LaMotte

Spiritual egos make a distinction between "beginners techniques"
and "advanced techniques."  Their intellect wants something
difficult to do, a sense of accomplishment.  That is why so
many new age teachers speak of their spiritual "work."  Do
they ever speak of their spiritual "play"?

Ease is the cure for dis-ease.  The deepest, most healing
spiritual practice, we ease into.  In fact, we do not practice.
We let go of practice.

The goal is never an achievement done by "advanced" practice,
but the dissolution of the do-er.  It is known by un-knowing and
done by un-doing.  This can only happen to the effortless.  The
most powerful meditation is the simplest, the most natural.

When you really look at people who carry a bag of "advanced"
techniques, you often see a weariness behind the stiff mask of
their perpetual smile. Of they look tentative, because they are
always taking the next step, and never completely here.  Only
the beginner dwells in eternal freshness...  The beginner is never
 advanced because she is present.

In the deepest and most natural meditation, you never have to
leave your body.  Every atom of your body is already woven out
of swirling stars....  No wind can uproot the beginner.  No
wound can puncture the intergalactic stillness of the Beginner's
core.

Transcending your body is not an advanced practice. It is a practice
of disconnection. That is why, in the Anapanasati Sutra, the Buddha
said, "Awareness of body in the body."  He did not say,
"Transcend the body."  He said to grok the body from within the body,
for consciousness and matter are one energy,
every cell and photon trembling with the sap of awareness.

...be a beginner.  Always feel the freshness of the first day of creation.
Now is the beginning.  Now is the end of time.  How could "now" be
advanced?

Fred LaMotte
Uradiance

~

Photo - MM 
the two faces of Pumpkin Head :)

 

Trust - Truthless Truth

Underneath the surface,
deep inside the dugout,
a place of low light,
but sheltered from pain,
lies the hell of commonplaceness,
the wasteland of self-deception and struggle.

Above the surface,
out in the open,
a place of wonder and awe,
where the sun equally shines on joy and pain,
lies the promised land of unknowing,
the kingdom of self-acceptance and peace.

Allow vulnerability,
surrender your armor,
drop your mask,
come out into the world,
naked,
as you were born,
and every butterfly,
will awaken your inner child.

Trust...

at Truthless Truth

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

Feel It All - Gina Puorro

 Can you sit with this ocean of grief?
Can you feel the gravity of what is happening
without rushing towards silver linings
or happy endings?

Let the wound bleed a little longer
without running to cauterize it
with certainty and guarantees.
Let the lacerations cut a little deeper
carving lessons of the great mystery
into your flesh
and lean in close
to the pain.

Can you soothe without numbing?

Paint new landscapes with your frayed nerves
as your tongue searches for words
in a language that you have never had to speak before.
Feel the searing truth that nothing is certain
not today
or tomorrow
not the very next breath.
It never was.
But in this moment
we cannot ignore that.
Death sits close right now
we have a front row seat
to the cycles
of living and dying.

Feel the shakiness of your trust
the gnawing fear
the sting of loss
the burning anger
the confusion leaving you gasping
for why
and how
and when will this end?

Dissolve into the stillpoint
beyond thinking and doing
and feel the exquisite ache
of the heartbreaking
heart-opening act
of surrender.

Gina Puorro
April 5, 2020

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

The Unfolding - Fred LaMotte

 Art by Rassouli

I shed every petal, crushed every pollen drop to fragrance
without form, peeled away the seed husk, cracked the casing
of the emerald germ down to the black Upanishadic holllow...

Still, I could not feel You.

I relinquished every veil of innocence, became more naked
than the moon before the sun.  I melted every photon to its
wave of darkness, offered my flesh to the fire before wanting.

Still, I could not touch the Love of whom fools stammer...

So I hid my face in your hiddenness, tore off my wings and
spiraled down into the rhythm of your stillness.  I fell into the
ocean of Unknowing where breath goes before it returns.

Knelt and stayed, an exile on the shore of my own ancient heart,

where no white sail pulsated in a final exhalation, come to bear
me away.

Then, in a wickless flame of chaos without root or stem,
I unfolded, and became infinite.  Longing blossomed in the
crimson void.  I became You.

Fred LaMotte

Uradiance

Where Do You Come From? - Katarina Jonsson

Art by Johannes Plenio on unsplash.com

Where do you come from
he asked.
I never arrived,
she answered,
but I come from a thousand different places
sometimes from sorrow and hurt
sometimes from the greatest joy
other times from shame and guilt
from projections and competition
she said.

But where do you come from
he asked.
I come from a thousand different places
she answered.
I never arrived.
Sometimes I come from ignorance and blame
sometimes from darkness and despair.
I have come from happiness and communion
from disappointment and loneliness
she said.

But where do you come from
he asked.
I come from a thousand places.
I never arrived
she answered.
I came from inferiority and superiority
sometimes from equality.
I have come from thoughts and emotions
and I have called them love.
They both fell silent.

Where do you come from
he asked.
I come from silence
from love
from God
she said.
I have arrived.

Who has arrived
he asked.
I don't know
she said...

Katarina Johnsson

via - The Dawn Within

Wild Portals of Unknowing - Fred LaMotte

"God leads every soul by a separate path." - John of the Cross

I cannot possibly know what is most important; that which will
transform me.  If I already know what it is I will never be free,
because I have packaged "liberation" as knowledge, in the tight
wrapper of a concept.  This means that spiritual transformation
can never become a program, a technique, or a course that I take.

The moments that liberate me are wild portals of unknowing,
when the blue sky of wonder outshines any cloud it contains;
vast emptiness shifts into the foreground; techniques, traditions,
concepts cultivated in the past, dissolve...

[.....]

The best meditation evaporates into amazement.  The best mantra
melts into silence.  The best guru dances in the mist at the edge of
a meadow, and disappears into your longing heart, where true path
has no beginning....

No, I cannot possibly tell what is most important - how a blue
moth disguises herself in a petal of lupine, why cascade lilies
frolic in a rainy mountain meadow, what the hermit thrush means
to silence.  I cannot know when the golden sun will burst my chest
wide open, turning the small dark chamber of self-doubt into a
boundless empyrean.

Fred LaMotte

Uradiance

~

Photo - Vortex Art
2011

Journey of Return - Dorothy Hunt

When the Beloved wants to take you Home,
extend your hand to His welcoming
even though your body may be trembling
and your mind may want to flee;
even though those around you grieve,
and you yourself have mourned, even before they,
the changing form of your body.
Tears are not the final truth
though they will come and go
like stars that need a dark sky to be seen.
Death is not a failure of a mind
that is not strong enough,
or positive enough, or pure enough.
Those who hold such views are simply
masking fear with ideas of being in control.
We are being lived...
...anguish, fear or deepest grief
cannot alter Who you really are.
The beautiful Spirit that extended ItSelf
in space and time, and called ItSelf by your name,
is simply ready to return, unencumbered by a body,
to Its vast and spacious Unborn Self,
that kisses you at birth,
and holds your hand in death,
and never for a moment
forgets you are ItSelf.

The mind imagines you are leaving,
but where could you truly go?
You are Life ItSelf...
Unceasingly flowing,
moment to moment unfolding Yourself.

A body is born; a body dies; but you do not.
Deep within your heart, you know this Truth.
Rest there.  Rest in the knowing that
opens your heart to all that IS,
that loves ItSelf in all that comes,
and returns to ItSelf in all that goes.

Dorothy Hunt
Zen Buddhist Teacher

~

Personal Note - My 90 year old mother has started her
"Journey of Return."  She collapsed at home on Dec. 23rd
and spent the next week in the hospital where they discovered

she has stomach cancer.  She chose not to pursue treatment, and
is now at home on Hospice Care.  She really doesn't understand
what is happening, as she has already forgotten what happened to
her in December.  She is "transitioning", as they call it; seeing
people where there are none, seeing paintings on walls that aren't
there.  She has begun to grieve the loss of the functioning of her
body, but we don't think she knows "she" is dying.  But she is also
still very lucid, just exhausted physically; as are her children who
now care for her 24/7.  Three very different personalities brought
together in time in a family dynamic that is difficult... 
We don't know when "The Beloved" will take her.
It could be weeks or months according to those who "know"
about the process of death.  I will have to say that this experience
has made me question any *ideas* of an underlying "spirituality" -
as it does not appear in my present experience.  Maybe we just
create lofty ideas of "spirituality" to comfort the mind.  The
practical fact is that my mother will die, dissipate, even if her
Consciousness continues or is absorbed into the Greater
Consciousness, etc...   It is the process of death
itself that is exhausting as the body slowly declines... 
It appears to be an "event", an "experience" that is happening,
like birth, whether we are able to
understand the mystery of it or not...

Follow Your Own Footsteps - Mark Nepo

Every time we talk to someone, there comes back to us a map
 of expectation as to how we should respond...

We share a confusion:
we are often given direction.

We share a pain;
we are often given instruction.

We share a desire;
we are often given a plan.

The power of these unspoken maps should not be underestimated.
For the endless gravities of expectation we move in and out of
govern most of our thinking and summons most of our energy
in denying them or complying with them.

In actuality, underneath all the plans, pressures, and expectations,
underneath all the subtle guidance and nudging, the next step
is truly unknown...

Thus, our spiritual charge is to maintain the wonder of the
singular explorer that each of us is...

The freshest step has always come when we are brave
enough to land at the end of what little we know,
breathing in new air, in reaction to no one, in wonder at
what is...

Mark Nepo

From: The Book of Awakening

(Mark's words, my format)

The Compass Of My Soul - Chuck Surface

I've read so much of the Great Paths,
Resonating here, with this,
Finding myself uneasy there, with that,
Until setting each tome aside...

'Twas You I found, wordless, within.

I've traveled far, to famed teachers,
Being uplifted here, by this,
Finding myself disturbed there, by that,
Until, leaving those places...

'Twas You I found, speechless, within.

I've sojourned in the villages of faith,
And in each discovered jewels,

In the rubble heaps of dogma,
But always, my sandals caked in mud...

'Twas You I found, Sparkling, there.

Beyond the safe harbors of orthodoxy,
In the deep waters of The Great Mystery,
Tossed in Dread Tempests of Unknowing,
Unanchored, Rudderless, Adrift...

'Twas You I found, the Compass of my Soul.

Chuck Surface

Garden of the Beloved

Facebook

~

Photo from Chuck's FB page