Red is Red in Play D'Oh

[Guest guest]

“Lord, you exist

as me. Your power moves,

and I start walking.

A prior impulse is the only difference

between us. Other than that,

everything I am is You.”

 

~Lalla

 

 

With the words inaccessible,

inexpressible

to tell you how much of how much you shared with us

Moved me . . .to the bones,

only metaphoric moans groaned

in some mutuality of marveling at this mystery will do right now

to say what I cannot say.

 

There is a way out of suffering.

 

 

“Whatever work I did became worship of the Lord;

Whatever word I uttered became a mantra;

Whatever this body of mine experienced became

the sadhana of Saiva Tantra

illumining my path to Parmasiva.”

 

~Lalla

 

 

“You must yearn to return....to the living experience that you are.”

 

~Vicki Woodyard

 

 

“Passionate, with longing in mine eyes, Searching wide, and seeking

nights and days, Lo' I beheld the Truthful One, the Wise, Here in

mine own House to fill my gaze.

 

Holy books will disappear,

and then only the mystic formula will remain. When the mystic formula

departed, naught but mind was left. When the mind disappeared naught

was left anywhere, And a voice became merged within the Void.

 

You are the heaven and You are the earth, You are the day and You are

the night, You are all pervading air, You are the sacred offering of

rice and flowers and of water; You are Yourself all in all, What can

I offer You?”

 

~Lalla

 

“Begin watching your thoughts as they try to scramble out of the

present and make a dash into the future or the comfy, cozy past.

Actually, as my spiritual teacher said....."Wasn’t it bad enough at

the time?" Of course it was, but sentimentality likes to suffer. It

embellishes the past with rosy-hued resentment and the seductive

slow-burn of being a victim of this or that.”

 

~Vicki Woodyard

 

 

“Loosen the load of sweetness I'm carrying.The sling-knot is biting

into my shoulder.This day has been so meaningless.I feel I can't go

on.When I was with my teacher, I heard a truththat hurt my heart like

a blister,the tender pain of seeingsomething I loved as an

illusion.The flocks I tended are gone.I am a shepherd without even a

memoryof what that means, climbing this mountain.I feel so lost.This

was my inward way, until I cameinto the presence of a Moon, this new

knowledgeof how likenesses unite. Good Friend,everything is You. I

see only God.Now the delightful forms and motionsare transparent. I

look through themand see myself as the Absolute. And here'sthe answer

to the riddle of this dream:You leave, so that we twocan do One

Dance.”~Lalla

 

“Now-consciousness is always newly-minted. You can only surrender and

watch what happens. There is no expectancy or fear....just a

commitment to be a witness to what is, which is always a mystery.

Prefer mystery to history and you will have it.”

~Vicki Woodyard

 

 

This poem came autumn flaming from colorful history, from His story,

and misery freshly speared by a witness committed to what is,

peppered in mint-condition conditioning,

petered out in the preference for Mystery over history.

 

 

“I saw and found I am in everthing

I saw God effulgent in everything.

After hearing and pausing, see Shiva

the House is His alone; Who am I, Lalla?”

 

~Lalla

 

 

Near dark with the sunlight breaking apart in the glowing leaves

gone red, red against the redwood trees they’ve climbed like spires,

my desires lie fallen on the ground of being, just being there,

like the yellowed autumn leaves that crisp and sing in their being there…

 

Scattered across my path were red-petalled presents, rosy leaved letters,

near-luminescent in the night sky that shadowed us in silhouette.

In comic calligraphy there appeared a broken rib bone before me,

small and fragile, bleached with daylights’ of numbers untold.

Looking closer still, drawing down and kneeling on the ground,

great laughter broke free in perfect synchronicity when I realized

that I, that we, that me and b were wading gleefully

through a red sea of poison oak leaves looking for all the world

like lovely, stunning rose petals that some lover had strewn for us to see.

TeeHee.

 

 

"Now I saw a stream flowing;

Now neither bank nor bridge was seen.

Now I saw a bush in bloom;

Now neither rose or thorn was seen."

 

~Lalla

 

LoveAlways,

 

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