The Light Under The Bushel
Feel the consciousness of each person as
your own consciousness.
Vijnana Bhairava Tantra, vs. 106
This morning, between the front door and
my old white Toyota,
I discovered the
brown smoggy sky
was an endless meadow of
lavender and sage-
I reached out my arm,
which telescoped to
macroscopic proportion,
and drew a clutch
of blossoms to my nose--
Ah, how sweet a scent!
Do you ever notice
how the afterburn of
gasoline on a busy
street can carry away
your heart to a sun-
drenched scene
where you and your
lover dance on a
gazebo while musicians
play waltzes and polkas
on shiny brass horns
and puffing accordions?
What is this world,
where each step into
a shopping mall or
grocery feels like
floating in a living
sea of Chanel,
swimming in an
ocean of love's
potion #9?
How came I to be
so helplessly enraptured?
Has my ecstasy a name
to match her scent?
O my lover,
(and I am laughing now),
it is Me--
only Me,
all Me,
How could
there be any
other?
You there,
woman with strawberry
hair and cherry lips--
We are Me!
And Mister--
yes, you with that
little paunch and
crooked smile--
Me are We!
Oh, and how do YOU know?
I hear you doubtful say.
Such boldness,
so forthright.
What presumption.
Thus, we shall share
our secret,
a very simple one,
not so secret, really--
You see that man?
Yes, him.
And, those two women?
Look at their eyes...
Do you see?
Can you see?
The light in those eyes--
all of them?
Yes, a light,
and in everyone's
eyes.
Beloved friends,
I have seen this light,
recognized the light,
worshiped
Feel the consciousness of each person as
your own consciousness.
Vijnana Bhairava Tantra, vs. 106
This morning, between the front door and
my old white Toyota,
I discovered the
brown smoggy sky
was an endless meadow of
lavender and sage-
I reached out my arm,
which telescoped to
macroscopic proportion,
and drew a clutch
of blossoms to my nose--
Ah, how sweet a scent!
Do you ever notice
how the afterburn of
gasoline on a busy
street can carry away
your heart to a sun-
drenched scene
where you and your
lover dance on a
gazebo while musicians
play waltzes and polkas
on shiny brass horns
and puffing accordions?
What is this world,
where each step into
a shopping mall or
grocery feels like
floating in a living
sea of Chanel,
swimming in an
ocean of love's
potion #9?
How came I to be
so helplessly enraptured?
Has my ecstasy a name
to match her scent?
O my lover,
(and I am laughing now),
it is Me--
only Me,
all Me,
How could
there be any
other?
You there,
woman with strawberry
hair and cherry lips--
We are Me!
And Mister--
yes, you with that
little paunch and
crooked smile--
Me are We!
Oh, and how do YOU know?
I hear you doubtful say.
Such boldness,
so forthright.
What presumption.
Thus, we shall share
our secret,
a very simple one,
not so secret, really--
You see that man?
Yes, him.
And, those two women?
Look at their eyes...
Do you see?
Can you see?
The light in those eyes--
all of them?
Yes, a light,
and in everyone's
eyes.
Beloved friends,
I have seen this light,
recognized the light,
worshiped
this light
for what feels like
a thousand lives
and have realized
a small, important thing:
There is only One Light.
Madhya Nandi
for what feels like
a thousand lives
and have realized
a small, important thing:
There is only One Light.
Madhya Nandi
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