wounded, weary, and wideawake

The invasion was unexpected and uninvited; it happened
one numinous now
when the minder of memories had her back turned.

In crept wild wideawakeness, sleuthing
through this dormitory of sleeping stories,
slipping from cocoon to cocoon
dubbing each bedded-down memory
with its diamond dagger and pronouncing each one
an esteemed and luminous Member of the Matrix.

It lifted up the wounded and the weary,
the lost and lonesome, the betrayed
and the broken, saying

To know this pain, beloved
is to know That which is beyond time
for That alone has the capacity to be aware
and in your naked awareness of your pain
you are naturally ever-enlightened.

You imagine your enlightenment to be
other than this wretchedness –
you take it as proof that you
haven’t yet “made the shift”
yet how could pain (or pleasure) be known
if enlightenment were not fully present?

By what function of cognition
would you aware this knowing?
By both logic and experience it’s found
that the unlit light of awareness
is prior to every sensory perception.

Will you stay tucked up in your cocoon
dreaming of the mirage of your awakening
shimmering in some distant space and time
or will you blink now
and own up to your feral freedom?

I blinked
and
disappeared.

and here you are, shining: so dopily simple!

If we meet this world unprotected, our heart gets broken over and over and over.

This is actually a gift.

You let the world touch you, it shatters you open, and it shatters you open, and it shatters you open.

And here you are, shining.

After our heart is broken open a thousand times and all of the contents emptied out, there’s just this shining left.

and btw

This is so dopily simple … SO dopily simple.

What are all the long books about?  All the fancy words and all of us getting ourselves tied up in knots.

It’s just simple.  Let’s just be here.  And when we’re here, let’s just invite our whole beings here, every bit.

And then when every bit is here, let’s invite everybody else here.

That’s it … end of story.  We’re already present.

What’s the big whoop?  Where do we think we’re going?

~ Jeannie Zandi

~  a   m   e   n  ~

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the unbroken

There is a brokenness
out of which comes the unbroken,
a shatteredness
out of which blooms the unshatterable.

There is a sorrow
beyond all grief which leads to joy
and a fragility
out of whose depths emerges strength.

There is a hollow space
too vast for words
through which we pass with each loss,
out of whose darkness
we are sanctioned into being.

There is a cry deeper than all sound
whose serrated edges cut the heart
as we break open to the place inside
which is unbreakable and whole,
while learning to sing.

~ Rashani Réa

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