106

[Guest guest]

There are no signposts here, no consolations.

I wander, whittled down to a vapor of

what I thought I was, in the silence of

this enormous emptiness.

An old maplewood cane in my left hand

taps the dust along this deserted path,

marking footsteps that came from nowhere,

lead to nowhere/anywhere.

Memories, vague yearnings, pieces of dreams –

all skitter restlessly across the

surface of imagination, but

find no resting-place.

Soon there is only the obviousness of

this immense mystery, the unknowable that animates

this shell of elements for a brief flash in time.

I am water, washing through this water world.

Unborn, undying –

twisting through the maritime depths of

itself, flowing through grand canyons of

heart-stopping vision or pooling in stagnant

backwaters of abandoned desire.

Unaccountable breath –

inhale & exhale, inhale & exhale, inhale & exhale –

and all the while this beating, blood-pumping vessel of

ordinary, irreducible life vibrates to

an inaudible music,

the music of precise embodiment.

How could I have ever imagined

there was anything more than this

utter simplicity?

This water is transparency itself.

This endless tidal child of an oceanic mother,

never other than herself, at play in cloud,

dewdrop, brook, snowslush, river, lake, leaf, limb,

root, dark earth, rainbow heaven, bird, beast,

beauty, worm, world within world within world.

Always now.

Now.

Over the waterfall, I burst into billions of

individual drops of itself in deafening roar and

just as soon dissolve again into the

flow of my eternal unity.

The silent flow, the water of life, nourishing

all of the forms of myself, my own form.

Contained within me are all water worlds,

and I within them, and they ripple

through this vastness,

this dark and moonless night, and

I wander on, my cane

tapping out the signature on water, and

water echoes back the loneliness of

that which can never

know itself, but only

be itself.

And even this loneliness at last is

submerged in the welcoming embrace of itself

for itself, the watery limbs which

reach out to catch the gentle rain of

this liquid sky's tears,

the tears which are the heart's voice of this

silence I wander through tonight.

[Guest guest]

This is very nice, thank you.

Harry

Terry Williams (Harry) Kerr McGee Payroll Dept email; tlwilliams (AT) kmg (DOT) com

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hrtbeat7 [hrtbeat7 ]

Monday, October 21, 2002 2:54 PMTo:

Subject: 106There are

no signposts here, no consolations. I wander, whittled down to a

vapor of what I thought I was, in the silence of this enormous

emptiness. An old maplewood cane in my left hand taps the dust along

this deserted path, marking footsteps that came from nowhere, lead to

nowhere/anywhere. Memories, vague yearnings, pieces of dreams -all

skitter restlessly across the surface of imagination, but find no

resting-place. Soon there is only the obviousness of this immense

mystery, the unknowable that animates this shell of elements for a

brief flash in time. I am water, washing through this water

world.Unborn, undying - twisting through the maritime depths of

itself, flowing through grand canyons of heart-stopping vision or

pooling in stagnant backwaters of abandoned desire. Unaccountable

breath - inhale & exhale, inhale & exhale, inhale & exhale - and all

the while this beating, blood-pumping vessel of ordinary, irreducible

life vibrates to an inaudible music, the music of precise

embodiment.How could I have ever imagined there was anything more

than thisutter simplicity? This water is transparency itself. This

endless tidal child of an oceanic mother, never other than herself,

at play in cloud, dewdrop, brook, snowslush, river, lake, leaf,

limb,root, dark earth, rainbow heaven, bird, beast,beauty, worm,

world within world within world. Always now. Now. Over the waterfall,

I burst into billions of individual drops of itself in deafening roar

and just as soon dissolve again into the flow of my eternal unity.

The silent flow, the water of life, nourishing all of the forms of

myself, my own form. Contained within me are all water worlds, and I

within them, and they ripple through this vastness, this dark and

moonless night, and I wander on, my cane tapping out the signature on

water, and water echoes back the loneliness of that which can never

know itself, but only be itself.And even this loneliness at last is

submerged in the welcoming embrace of itself for itself, the watery

limbs which reach out to catch the gentle rain of this liquid sky's

tears, the tears which are the heart's voice of this silence I wander

through

tonight./join

All paths go

somewhere. No path goes nowhere. Paths, places, sights, perceptions,

and indeed all experiences arise from and exist in and subside back

into the Space of Awareness. Like waves rising are not different than

the ocean, all things arising from Awareness are of the nature of

Awareness. Awareness does not come and go but is always Present. It

is Home. Home is where the Heart Is. Jnanis know the Heart to be the

Finality of Eternal Being. A true devotee relishes in the Truth of

Self-Knowledge, spontaneously arising from within into It Self.

Welcome all to a.Your use of is subject

to the

If you are not the intended recipient of this e-mail message, any use,

distribution or copying of the message is prohibited. Please let me

know immediately by return e-mail if you have received this message

by mistake, then delete the e-mail message. Thank you.

[Guest guest]

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