that which cannot be spoken
Sep. 14th, 2006 01:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chelidonIt's days like this when I can believe that, underneath it all, I'm just a taoist after all. The moment seems to be all there is, all that needs to be -- this one moment, this single breath leading to the next, perfect and complete. It all seems to makes sense, everything fits into its place, has its time, is no more or less than it should be, than it needs to be. Chaos, turmoil, struggle, all obscure what is truly in front of me, and that is peace, and that is now. Every sound, taste, smell, sight, touch, thought...is an echo, a whisper of the mind of god.
What leads to moments like this, of quiet, peace, and stillness amidst the tumult and uproar? The earth cooling around me as the seasons turn, the leaves beginning to dance and fall along with the gentle rain outside? A purring cat in my lap, ancient Finnish harmonies and modern music in my ears (Värttinä), food of the earth in my mouth which was carried to mountaintops and down again (left-over almonds and gorp from hiking)? A bit of writing work, some on-line banter with housemates and friends about topics ranging from Devil's Nutting Day/Day of the Holy Nut (which is today) to squirrel brains, pesto recipes and deliberate breaches in propriety? Or perhaps some reading of Eliphas Levi (ironic, if so, since Mssr. Constant was certainly no Taoist ;>)?
Or is it just breathing, remembering, the knowledge that I am, right here and now, in the right place at the right time? My work is here, my work is now, and both are play, just as the lightning flashes from cloud to cloud to tree to ground, playing its ancient game, free to go where it will within the rules laid down by the first moments of the creation of the universe, those first impossibly swift and powerful slivers of creation from which all else arose? So are we all, a lighting path simultaneously up and down the entire tree of life, a cry of exaltation and agony -- the birth-pain, the joy in life and the moment of death all in one beautiful flashing instant of art and form. So are we all a perfect, one of a kind work of art. So are we all goddess, and god is indeed like us. You have a right to be here, because you are here. Truth is.
The cosmic "oh" echoes within me. Oh...
And the cosmic "yes." Yes!
And the moment which has no sound, cannot be uttered in any way, other than, perhaps by living life, in this, and every, moment.
"E rere kau mai te awa nui
mai te kahui maunga ki Tangaroa;
ko au te awa; ko te awa ko au"
"The river flows
from the mountains to the sea;
I am the river and the river is me"
What leads to moments like this, of quiet, peace, and stillness amidst the tumult and uproar? The earth cooling around me as the seasons turn, the leaves beginning to dance and fall along with the gentle rain outside? A purring cat in my lap, ancient Finnish harmonies and modern music in my ears (Värttinä), food of the earth in my mouth which was carried to mountaintops and down again (left-over almonds and gorp from hiking)? A bit of writing work, some on-line banter with housemates and friends about topics ranging from Devil's Nutting Day/Day of the Holy Nut (which is today) to squirrel brains, pesto recipes and deliberate breaches in propriety? Or perhaps some reading of Eliphas Levi (ironic, if so, since Mssr. Constant was certainly no Taoist ;>)?
Or is it just breathing, remembering, the knowledge that I am, right here and now, in the right place at the right time? My work is here, my work is now, and both are play, just as the lightning flashes from cloud to cloud to tree to ground, playing its ancient game, free to go where it will within the rules laid down by the first moments of the creation of the universe, those first impossibly swift and powerful slivers of creation from which all else arose? So are we all, a lighting path simultaneously up and down the entire tree of life, a cry of exaltation and agony -- the birth-pain, the joy in life and the moment of death all in one beautiful flashing instant of art and form. So are we all a perfect, one of a kind work of art. So are we all goddess, and god is indeed like us. You have a right to be here, because you are here. Truth is.
The cosmic "oh" echoes within me. Oh...
And the cosmic "yes." Yes!
And the moment which has no sound, cannot be uttered in any way, other than, perhaps by living life, in this, and every, moment.
"E rere kau mai te awa nui
mai te kahui maunga ki Tangaroa;
ko au te awa; ko te awa ko au"
"The river flows
from the mountains to the sea;
I am the river and the river is me"
