sinking back into just this

just this……in all its simplicity……
welcoming what is here already……
not coming……not going……
obscured even by seeking……

So we meet in the paradox of apparent teachings, retreats, trainings or gatherings, to celebrate and explore this nameless presence that we are. At first, there is the tendency to accentuate the myriad of practices the yoga tradition has developed, to focus on concepts like nondual, true nature, awareness, self-inquiry or other-inquiry.

But all this activity eventually leads us to a giving up. And in this surrender what is revealed is seen to be what has always been here, before the search began, during its full intensity and after its cessation. The task turns out to be ceding to stillness, and in that stillness the recognition of just this.

Falling back and resting in what is so familiar that it has been overlooked during all the body sensing yoga, during all the pranayama, all the yoga nidra and amidst all the dialogues, amidst life itself, we find our self simply sinking back into just this.

~ Joan Ruvinsky


Gratitude to Kathleen Knipp for introducing me to Joan Ruvisky’s work and recommending her for our wideawake women page. “Her teachings, offered in both prose and poetry, as well as verbally, are yet another beautiful expression of the inexpressible through a woman’s voice.”
~ ml


think on this, whispered the candlelight


folded up on my zafu
venus rising, a brilliance
above the coral horizon
where soon the first
radiance of a new day
will emerge

legions of bats, black
against indigo, are
winging their silent way
back to their favorite
over-day treetops



but it’s still dark enough
for my candle to be
queen of the shadows
and she whispers to me:

“If the light of your awareing
wasn’t brighter than my own,
how could you see me?

I am but a shadow-play
of the unviewable, unlit
Light that you are!

Think on this.  And when the
sun climbs over the eastern rim
and reaches into this tiny patch
of sacred space, undressing
the dark,
think on this again.”

– miriam louisa

echoes from emptiness

yes, but can you live it?

Well –

if you’ve had a peek into
wild wideawakeness –

if the jigsaw pieces of
a lifetime’s seeking
have grouped themselves
into an apperception
that’s savaged
all your ideas about
what this IS
and knocked both your
feely fantasies and your
intellectual understanding
clear out of mind –

if you’ve fallen
head-first into this
simple suchness,
there’s no longer a
question of “embodying it” or
“living it.”


So my answer is no.

How can you

live the Reality

that lives You?

And yes.

How can You not?


– miriam louisa

matter-of-fact awareness

I’m always delighted to come across writing that is honest and juicy and not too proud to celebrate the mundane. “We are our ordinary lives,” says Susan Stinson – how true that is!  Seen with “matter-of-fact-awareness” the exquisite details of our life/self are available to be honored and expressed. This makes good reading, especially if what particularly interests one is the self-shining awareness in which IT all – all – arises and disappears …

Immerse, sense, feel, imagine, enjoy: this is our miraculous everyday beloved life!

… May your hands weather with grace.  May your fingers smell good.  May chill on your arms keep you alive to your skin as much as warmth might do.  May you grieve when you need to and know your own lacks, with matter-of-fact awareness, like you know the landscape of leaving where you sleep to begin the day.  Leave the sleep.  Begin the day.  Offer things.  Work. Build.  Step toward others.  Take a lean and a fall as a chance to spin on the floor on your back.  Gather your courage.  Make beautiful meals.  Know your gifts and delight in them with specific, attentive vigor.  Shovel.  Pedal.  Cruise.  Oh, my darlings and others, listen as if you mean it, as if it matters, as if that act, in itself, were consuming and a kind of completion. When the moment opens, answer.  The toilet might be running again in the other room.  Get up, shake the handle and keep going.  If the water goes quiet, there will still be ticking.  We are our ordinary lives, and they have such depths and textures.  We brush against the nap in relationship, or we’re pressed to the plush, or something is jabbing, the plastic stem of an old tag, a broken zipper, but we dress in the fabrics of the lives near ours, however we bring them near.  Such clothes.  Such colors …

~ Susan Stinson


beware the wayside mongrel

This Unlit Light: Disney screencap from 'Lady and the Tramp'


I’m reading Feather Fall – an anthology of writings by Laurens Van Der Post, and relishing his wordsmithing. Can’t you just see yapyap thinking-mind as this wayside mongrel? Barking, sniffing, tumbling, whining … any tactic that will serve to distract one from the sweet sensuous fullness of This …

How little mere thinking helps a soul in trouble.  What a wayside mongrel it can be, running the length of the threatened kingdom of our being, barking at one master instinct after another, sniffing at the trees of our natural selves for the scent of a bitch it can tumble, or whining at the back door of our first warm-lit emotion.

~ Laurens Van Der Post, The Face Beside the Fire

Image from Disney ‘Lady and the Tramp’ screencaps (with apologies to Tramp)