it never ends!

a dream was born of love

like a flower, budding in the field of time
it swelled, spread its petals
shared its perfume with complete abandon
smiled under the sun’s kisses
was tossed by many a foul storm
surviving almost a century
of spinning orbits around its bright star

“It never ends!” she exclaimed, exuberant,
just a few breaths before her last exhale,
before she abandoned our solar lover
and melted into the arms of
our eternal Beloved

a dream died

yet the love, the love remains,
imperishable, inescapable
and always beyond the reach of memory

~

impermanence


A little memorial piece. It’s been four years today … by the day rather than date.
(How beautiful that this year’s remembrance falls within the Easter weekend.)
I remain amazed and more grateful with every passing year for that final teaching:
IT NEVER ENDS

See also:

nothing ever dies but a dream

what is it that follows me wherever I go?

wideawake women

Image source unknown


bright naked beingness

What an odd sort of a night. The body is still somewhat travel-weary so it trotted off to bed early. There’s usually a time of sitting, settling, checking-in with Reality before snuggling under the doona, and last night was no exception. The mind was very bright. Sleep came instantly and went on for some hours.

Then suddenly one was jolted awake by what felt like an electric shock surging through the whole body. The really strange thing was that although I was asleep, something was aware of both the jolt and the waking up. “That was a bit weird,” thinking said.

So – I’m lying there wide awake in the moon-lit night wondering where all the energy now vibrating the body has come from. Feeling like a spring chicken and contemplating getting up to do something … then I hear a shout: “Be Beingness!”

Instantly, with no intention or volition, there was a turning, a converging of the energy we call attention … back. The sensation was physical.

“Back”? No. Backwards? Sort of. As though Aware-ing was falling out the back of the brain and into … space. And the whole of space was singing silence and it was breathing. This was not a dream; I have never felt more fully present.

There were no lights. There was no bliss. There was no center or reference-point. There was only this vast void, breathing.

It continued for some hours before sleep-tide washed in. And in the dawn, when Kookaburras’ cackling chorus rallied the sleeping world, it was still present. It’s here now, as I type and as your ‘I’ reads; it has always been here: bright naked Beingness.

This is what ‘I’ is.

~