Guest guest Posted December 12, 2002 Report Share Posted December 12, 2002 On Tuesday we spent the day with Robert’s father, Emmet O’Hearn, at St. Mary's hospital. This frail and beautiful being reminds me of Stanley Kunitz, physically. The spruff of white hair, like a baby bird in the nest might have, brought forth the most poignant motherliness, a desire to spread my arms like wings and protect him from the world which is even now quickly disappearing from his outward gaze. He is turning inward and the senses are giving way to a more powerful call from some inner Harmony entreating him to follow it inside, into the Heart. Dear, Beloved Emmet is at the precipice to Death, a voyage one must go into alone... ....the same voyage that brought him into this world to live and Love and experience This, all of it as it is…and to know the profound Mercy, the Utterly Inconceivable Grace offered in the human form, in his human form as Emmet O’Hearn, father, friend, Beloved, husband and more, the Absolute playing as Maya. Holding hands at the Lovers Leap into the Vastness, the Abundance of Nothing, That Which Cannot Be Said, Love, the Self, is embraced in the Bliss of tasting the understanding of, "There is only One." Luminious Darkness, Self-Induced Intoxication, this wandering minstrel of the Mystery manifested as coalesced Light, creation’s own particular Beloved called Emmet, now begins the disentanglement of the knots of identification to the body, to the mind and all that arose from it…Like a phoenix we rise from our own funeral ashes, being already burst into flaming spirit essence and are reborn, re-adored as what Adoration Itself planned in pre-existence – to be Sabu, played with, by and as God. Absolute and Maya are not different. Allah and Emmet are not different. Beautiful, Beautiful Heart-breaking Love! OneHeart in cosmic exploration of itSelf…Tuesday in San Francisco the Beloved One touched His Own Heart when the last thing I saw before I walked out of the hospital room was Robert’s Darling father smiling, smiling like God, like Christ-Light breaking through and saying, "Beloved children, I Love You always. I am with You always." SOMETIMES I FORGET COMPLETELY - Rumi Sometimes I forget completely what companionship is. Unconscious and insane, I spill sad energy everywhere. My story gets told in various ways: A romance, a dirty joke, a war, a vacancy. Divide up my forgetfulness to any number, it will go around. These dark suggestions that I follow, are they part of some plan? Friends, be careful. Don't come near me out of curiosity, or sympathy. ~Coleman Barks - Rumi LoveAlways, MazieMSN 8 with e-mail virus protection service: 2 months FREE* Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted December 12, 2002 Report Share Posted December 12, 2002 , "Mazie Lane" <sraddha54@h...> wrote: Re: Tuesday 172. This curiosity, although distracted by belief, has never been about belief but living. This is why I wave Good-bye to believing – simple curiosity about what remains when past beliefs give way to what's beyond them. It's the only thing I am at all curious about -- perhaps in the same way the butterfly, emerging from its cocoon, is curious in its new Winged-ness -- the lure of the sudden swelling breeze, the pulsing urge of life for life that will not, cannot be denied. Being lifts off from a branch, discards the dry cocoon of past, and in a flight of breathless sighs, heartbreaks through the startled skies! 243. We are born and then we die – how few wake up in time to taste what's in-between! I have crossed the thin red line of my own blood to be here, to break upon this sky of shocking, flashing light, now fleshed out as this moment I am, pouring light, streaming down to lift the forms of light I am into a lightlessness so vast, and yet so particular in the precision of its forming and informing one singular beauty, a beauty moment by moment relinquished in the good death, this dying into life, drawn by the magnet of my own light, loving, lifted out of lost or found, words and what they don't say, can't say, still saying, over and over and over – Yes! Yes! Yes! This light is that kind of poison, elegantly trickled into a dead man's mouth, and as this dusty corpse rises, yawns and exhales billowing yellow marigold light, eyes become rivers, drowning visions upon visions within one fixed pupil, the other shimmering bright with glory ray, spiraling, swirling into dancing desire, drunk deep of desire, desire poised for imminent immolation on the pyre of itself, suddenly bursting into the hungry flames of what it came here for, a something somehow sliding into itself, vastness impregnating itself with its own light, nothing more, not even this. 244. The eels in these Cold Mountain streams are slippery. Even if I imagine I've finally got my hands around one, it will always slip away. Like me, they like to play. Light likes to play Hide & Seek with itself. Don't ask me why. I don't know. Believing so is another eel. Let the eels play. Relax and rest back against a tree. Any tree here on Cold Mountain will do just fine. Light has its own way with each. Each grows its own way towards the light, never for an instant divided from its source. 245. Before the approaching blizzard, snow white clouds are ranging excitedly over immaculate blue sky along the ridge above my mountain hut, and my heart is running right along with them. Surrounded by snow, with more snow coming, yet not a flake refused -- this heart is running through the sky, side by side white clouds. LoveAlways, b Mazie Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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