Feeling To Infinity

It’s a shutters-shut slice of late afternoon swoon-time.
We are happy, smiling – two bodies shining towards
each other, each of us nearly blinding the other.

We mirror the happiness of mindless embodiment,
consciousness surrendered to its own bliss in a timeless
place where we now exist as the radiance of emptiness.

I kneel before you. You are the one I came to worship.
You are propped against a cushion of sun and shade,
adorned in the form of the particular Beloved.

Ripe as Rasa’s fragrance in the sunrise vineyards,
once again animating these forms of irresistible attraction,
there’s no difference between us save in the angle of fusion.

Choice or choiceless – the sudden surging of God’s
own blood clarifies any confusion. The three times tilt
on the cusp of our rapture as everything becomes us.

What presses so urgently through these shimmering forms,
like waves of pure moonlight flooding through the crumbled
portals of some ancient temple, a temple of our patient longing,

or like summer-sewn winds through red-rust nets on long-ago
forsaken fences, stretching over the rounded ridges of pastures
passed on a journey nobody has ever embarked upon,

a picture-perfect pathway to a mythical Lost Coast, we can
never explain, but only marvel at in the intimacy my awe shares
with your delight, my “Ah” with your “Aye”, one sigh between us,

one sacred syllable ever rising in the sensuous spaciousness
of our synchronous penetration, the matrix of our reunion
in life after life, one heart after breaking heart.

Only the light waits expectantly, like a lover at the gate,
for light to disembark. What follows is a joyous reunion
of that which has never actually been divided from itself.

We are all bewildered wanderers here, looking everywhere
for our own light. Everyone comes from that singular light
which glows like embers smeared across the god’s forehead.

You called to me from within that light. This hothead answered.
He came to your door, covered in the burning ash of my desire.
You were laughing right out loud as that crispy clown ignited!

One quick kiss – all of our holy ideas were scattered like ash!
When the light awakens to itself, we can surely expect a lot
of laughter. Why would we want it to be any other way?

Whoever imagined our immolation would be such fun —
reclining in bliss on our own funeral pyre, mindlessly
murmuring back and forth all through the night:

“Darling, Darling, Darling!”

~ Seng T’san

My Love, to attain this present birth we died into life – our exuberant wake attended by countless rejoicing beings, all happy for the ones who never were, those impossible children of a barren woman, miraculously appearing here in the virtual forms of you and I and everyone!

There is no boundary or limit on where or what we are, what this is, nor any place to pause or retreat, to advance to some front, or re-group in arrears, no regretful past nor hopeful tomorrow, no fear at last, nor any rumor of it, no elegantly fashioned armor of cool resistance to the unceasing interpenetration of soul, Spirit, and blissful Supreme, naturally revealed in the innocent transparency of life as it is — this sheer unspeakable suchness.

And if the brilliant body of our diamond being, suffused with a supernal light and pregnant with all seeds of creative possibility, were to become fully self-aware in the midst of this majesty, then such dawning recognition would lovingly unfurl itself in warm glad tidings of streaming blessing for the children borne in this womb of wooing emptiness, now afloat in the amniotic fluids of primal divine ecstasy.

Just so, my Love, how dare we speak of this in any tongue but one? It is this tongue, burnt to a crisp by the lovely fire which swept through our mind, igniting our heart, consuming any distance between us, gracefully reducing it to fragrant ash. And my throat — my throat is filled with my heart! Where my heart was, you are dancing euphorically, laughing that infectious laugh which no being born of flesh or heaven can resist.

Ah, see what we now become: feeling, flowing, flowering into some boundless blossoming, the Mystery reaches into itself, flooding me into you at last who are myself in a passion play of Love’s eternal alchemy, wrapped in this immense embrace, stars whirling through us, whole histories of light-streams curling serenely, like necklaces of golden moons, like the burnished prayer beads you once placed around my neck so that I would remember you – as if I could ever forget — those laughing beads of your rapture, ripe with the Great Heart Mantra, the sweet music of glad remembrance, our endless song of one love, one heart, free presence, present perfect, perfect peace, This, Beloved, Yes!

The interpermeation of self and supreme —
you are the one who makes up words, I am
the one who writes down words. You asked,
“Who is there?” I replied, “Your Darling!”

You are the one who makes up words, you
wanted to know what I wanted most, I said
“Everything, nothing. I am your Darling!”
Somewhere, a softly glowing silence.

You wanted to know what I wanted most.
I responded, “To see you happy!”
Somewhere, a softly glowing silence.
I claimed an unconditional love.

I said, “I wanted to see you happy!”
We whispered as lovers across the pillow.
I claimed an unconditional love.
One love was playing as if two.

We whispered as lovers across the pillow.
I had no patience for a waiting game.
One love was playing as if two.
You wanted to know where I had been.

I had no patience for the waiting game.
I replied, “I have been within you!”
when you asked me where I had been.
What did I see there? “Only God!”

I have always been here, within you.
There has never been a speck of distance.
What do I see there? “Only God!” I say.
You replied, “Then why is it so empty?”

There has never been a speck of distance.
This is the essence of our timeless truth.
You inquired, “Then why is it so empty?”
I answered, “Only to reveal our truth!”

This is the essence of our timeless truth: pristine
feeling to infinity, boundlessly expanding space.
This is how I would answer to reveal our truth.
You asked, “Can it be done?” I answered, “No.”

Feeling to infinity, boundlessly expanding space —
“Where can one safely live then?” You asked.
You wanted to know if it could be done.
“Only in that silence.” I replied.

“How can one safely live then?” You asked.
“Only by resorting to the guidance of the Heart,
Beloved, only in that silence.” I replied.
“Where can such silence be found?”

Only by resorting to the guidance of the Heart,
can one transcend any threat of disaster.
You asked, “Where can such silence be found?”
Only by relinquishing any resistance to the Heart.

One can transcend any threat of disaster, by seeing
the uncontrived presence of things as they are.
Only by relinquishing any resistance to the Heart,
can the truth of everyone and everything be revealed.

The uncontrived presence of things as they are
is the effortless state of our own true nature, where
the truth of everyone and everything is revealed.
After this, words themselves could go no further.

The effortless state is our own true nature.
There are no words with which to say this.
After this, words themselves can go no further.
White light infiltrates me as I expand into it.

If I tried to say more, listeners would hear
their own heartbeat . . . there would be
no flesh, no bone, nor any limit.
Amen, Amen, Amen.

The listening born within this silence,
the intimacy of the sky with the horizon,
the way some meandering streams just end
in the middle of nowhere in particular, exhaling
an invisible secret that every light-eyed creature
bathes in – all of this is evidence to anyone who
imagines some distance from their Source that
there has never been a trace of separation.

You are closer to me than I am to myself.

Each luscious poem-sound we make
is carried on the breath of some glad god
whom no one has yet found a way to worship.

Such living poetry is our prayer of gratitude
and praise for the appearance of each other
in the midst of this mystery, this
utter astonishment.

We float, a golden leaf on that breeze,
blown far beyond any mythic archetypes
of grace-granting divinity by the loving grace
of a divinity for which none can account,
any more than for this touch
we blissfully share.

There are beings of exquisite radiance
who let their love flow through the universe
with no limit or recoil, no fear or demand.

Their True Sanctuary is none other than
our own Abode, as we come to rest
in this touch at the Heart —
your Touch, Beloved,
my Heart!

~b

Each morning, musing,
I sit at this drifting continent
of thoughts moving forward,
a slow-motion leap.

Always arising inside
are islands of me, of You,
of the whole squirming tangle
of humanity’s Heart heaving sighs.

Some wildly flapping bright bird
of words cries out.

Oh, this streamer of Dawn,
this trailer of Light —
Fly!

Winging across this page,
feathered fingers caress each moment
of Your life with great gladness.

Some fine finger of Light
begs to paint in Your Heart.

The choices are fragrant,
like winter bittersweet in bloom
and I am become all
open-mouthed poet, a koan moan
spilling my blood-light, my heartbeat,
straight through your Soul-eyes,
and a million new poems
are brought to the dance.

Each single word
is a new country,
a revolution,
a full-circled Kiss.

So much sunlight
keeps pouring from You
that melons and figs are leaping
into the ground before
they’re even a seed!

Let this parade
of friendly mothers-to-be
just give that last push
out into Light!

Another Poem-Soul cries out
in the first breath of life!

~Mazie

11/23/03

2.
She has two extraordinary bat-like ears, capable
of moving in many positions, but which only listen
to what is true, ignoring all conceptual designations.

3.
Having those ears softly rubbed provides a sensual
delight which may lead to yawns and eyelid flutterings.
There are many uses for thumbs, this might be the best.

4.
The man and the woman are one. The man, woman,
and dog are one. She seems to be a dog, just as the man
and woman seem to be man and woman, although
none are what they seem. This is true for all.

5.
Her alien eyes see through the posers and the frauds.
Who can stand the intensity of her withering gaze?
If you are a squirrel, she will see you, she will bark!

6.
Don’t expect her to perform tricks for you. Isn’t it
enough that in this ambivalent world, you are blessed
to know that such a magical being can even exist?

7.
She is not interested in false self-images or faux-spirituality.
She can be fierce, like the wrathful deity one might encounter
in the Bardos, appearing in her snarling fearsome aspect.

8.
In this realm of virtual realities and endless commercial
interruptions, she appears as a Chihuahua only to those
who are blinded by her canine trance-inducing spell.

9.
Although impersonal in demeanor, she still tends to be
more comfortable with me when I am drinking Pinot Noir.
She will curl up in my lap and breathe quietly, dreamlessly.

10.
She wants to play and bite my fingers before we go to sleep,
which is a special kind of intimacy, revealing the simple
and original innocence of our shared creatureliness.

11.
When we take her out to answer nature calls, she fabricates
the whole universe with countless galaxies, as if it were
nothing at all. She then likes to sniff around awhile.

12.
Sometimes she will suddenly bark, not knowing at what,
but because there is some spontaneous internal movement
which manifests as the natural vocalization of pure beingness.

13.
I do not know which I prefer — her sudden bark, or the shock
of embodiment itself, which can be quite startling, unless
one has become accustomed to the apparent comings
and goings within this psycho-physical dimension.

14.
She sees that we all walk in the spacious domain of pure
and immediate presence, we tread the open and transparent
trails which inevitably wind around to where we all began,
before we divided into men, women, dogs, and birds.

15.
When I rub her chest, her eyes gently close, and she
remembers that place, the place where we are indivisible,
the same place we all are now, except in our imaginations.

Thus it was: when curious animals on twos and fours
approached, drawn by the alluring floral perfume,
they became so intoxicated by the fragrance
that they collapsed in a giddy euphoria
which endured for so long that it eventually
became their permanent state and condition.

And it happened that many seekers sought them out,
to sit with them and receive their grace, which was
but a fraction of the power of the flowers sprouting
from the union of I and Thou, Thou whom I worship
and adore as rain does a fertile soil, far beyond
any dreaming, though there is only dreaming.

I praise this cycling dream of sweet rain and fertility,
the same timeless grace which forms my heart feeling
into these simple words of wonder, placed with devotion
as a fragrant floral offering at the altar of the Beloved,
the one whose gracious gift of eternal potentiality
magically forms, dissolves, then re-forms itself
in dreams of rooting seeds and budding leaves,
even as this poem itself is going up in light!

We welcome them, say “Come on in!”
to all these loving ones appearing,
smiling blessings, then leaving us
with scattered bits of Beauty
from everywhere they shine.

~Mazie

I hear them in the kitchen
laughing with you, laughing
like there was no tomorrow,
laughing as if to say,

“What could be more fun
than to just show up!”

That’s it, of course –
to just show up.

We have no idea how
we got here, neither do they.

We don’t know what we are —
we are them, they us, laughing,
laughing in the utter
not-knowingness
of it all.

To know one thing
is to know everything.

To let go of even that
one thing is bliss!

Beloved,
I know You,
You know me –
what do we know?

We’re happy just to be.

We’re know-nothings, knowing
enough to just show up, but
maybe not enough yet
to wisely shut up!

Fools for Love,
now there’s a laugh!

In any case,
the coffee’s ready –
everyone bring your cup!

~b

11/02/02