From time to time, notes from this series of scribblings have been randomly posted here.
They have been stewing in the morphogenetic pot for seven years awaiting their form and time – and title. I liked the recent incarnation: “Slow Death by Zafu” but feedback indicated it was a touch morbid! Wee-me is touchy about relinquishing its solidity, unsurprisingly.
Yet it never tires of seeking the very love it would melt into – if only it would melt. The notes are really about this inevitable melt-down, and the consequences of it as it unfolded in the day-to-day life of she-who-scribbles.
The notes are now officially titled “Echoes from Emptiness,” and they have a site of their own where they are being (retrospectively) posted from the beginning – day 1. The whys and wherefores are set down in the “about” page. If Emptiness wishes, some might still be posted here.
I hope you’ll visit!
– miriam louisa
Posts from ‘echoes from emptiness’ reblogged here, to date
The sea is sighing this morning. Its murmur is the continuo that cradles the voices of my sangha-souls:
– brisk yap of startled dog
– honk of ibis, strutting on stilts
– warble of magpies’ morning choir practice
– chatter of pink galas, busy on newly-greened grass
– laughter of lorikeets taking breakfast in the scarlet bottlebrush
– and beachside, the cackle of kookaburras hunting crabs.
Pink and white oleanders show off under the big gums and a huge sulphur-crested cockatoo paints a streak of white as it swoops across the park, suddenly silencing the sangha with its raucous shriek. They listen; a second passes. Then they all strike up again.
On my shady balcony, tubs of color: impatiens, caladiums, violets, maidenhair ferns. And, oh delight! A shiny green sleepy-eyed frog has taken up residence in the water reservoir under the ferns!
I live alone and am often asked whether I feel lonely. Where, I wonder, on this magical and miraculous Earth could loneliness be found?
~ miriam louisa
echoes from emptiness