Sunday, March 9, 2008


The sky is gleaming. After preparing the space, I walk the perimeter, giving thanks to those forms that have helped create it. I stand in the middle. I close my eyes, as I thank spirit, a dozen birds soar over my head. They fly above, directly overhead they move in a raucous formation.
A smile crosses my face, and I feel the vibrating of their wings as they circle. They are in time with spirit, at this moment, they are the voice of spirit. Yes, we are heard, loud and quite clear.
Yes, even though you appear to be clueless, to be simply following the guide’s instructions, yes, we are heard. They fly in a circle above, and land in the star jasmine next to me. They continue their melody and play, granting me the noises of a lovely chatter.
I have never heard them so loud, like giggling girls, drunk on wine for the first time. They have never made themselves so known.
Yes, spirit sent them. A direct line to the mysterious center. Oh, thank you for revealing once again. Thank you for opening with wetness, for allowing me a glimpse, for my smile.

The hours have passed and I sit in my room, gently fighting back the waves of sleep that pursue me. "I must finish this," I think. This , my task of will. This, my clear objective. Everything inside wishes to end, to shut this computer off and close my eyes. Blissful sleep awaits.
But quitting is the sleep of my machine, not just the need of my body. It is the manifestation of a tendency- a superficial desire to stop before all is done well. It is my habit- screaming for me to listen- they have the right answer.
My eyes are sagging slightly at the sides. I think of my master, working hard. Hard for us, hard for himself, hard for all beings everywhere… so I continue to write.
It is with his example that I continue. I learn from another. As he has learned from another, as his teacher learned from another. This lineage is clear, not by name, but I feel it. From one to another, passed for how long? How clearly important it is for me to grasp this moment, this fleeting bit of time that slips with each blink of my eye.
Another is gone, I thought too hard about this sentence, and another bit of time has gone. And they have stopped. Give me more time to understand. I heard that when my attention grows, the moments will spread out and I will be able to feel and perceive more. Now, it is all I can do to stay awake and write these thoughts. This stream of consciousness with no point I can discern except the act of doing- perhaps that is the point.
This is my link to spirit.

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