Love comes on the wings of dawn, ) Love flies into the face of fear ( Love beats all fear with one winged caress. I look skywards for love’s approach – My dusk is surprised by love’s dawning, because (
I experienced the joyful vibe in Colourfest 2017, and my other few participations very intensely. But I didn’t try to hold on to them.
I can now “do” non-attachment. I would spend decades yearning after the event, preserving memories, keeping keepsakes.
Today I am the conduit. I can deeply swim in and submerge into these fine, fiery, feathery, frolicsome experiences. But I don’t want them to last so much that all I become is a sad curator of memories. That has gone. I’m over all that. It’s a sort of inside of head declutter.
It’s good. It feels “grown up”.
I had a perfectly surprisingly amazing experience on Sunday morning, June 4, 2017.
Nashir Karmali gave a 2 hour lecture on Ayurveda healing practices. Much of it was in the form of delightful anecdotes from his own long years in his own Wimborne practice.
He impressed us all. He comes over as he is, a deeply human and compassionate person, wise, learned, and with a gentle humour.
There must have been at least forty in the elegantly preserved Gaunts House Library. All remained quiet and respectfully attentive in the room throughout.
I knew Nashir’s talk would “use up” all the calm sunny weather on that day. I knew the weather would deteriorate from midday on.
But I dismissed as selfish idle ego chit-chat the idea of “bunking” it! And Nashir himself had, after all, personally invited me.
So I stayed to the end.
At the end, we were asked to partner off into healing/listening pairs. We were told, “Sit face to face, eye in eye, holding hands, look deep into the honourable soul we see in the eyes before us. For the first part, one touches the wrists of the other at the pulse.”
I remained sat down while the others got up, walked and mixed to find their partners.
I know from Biodanza I am way down the list of pairing choices owing to my minority age group, as I was here.
Only one unpaired person remained.
Before me is a woman with a forceful confident manner. She is a young woman. Certainly of good family. Someone well-educated and sure of her place in her society.
Her face is pleasingly round and open. Her symmetrical features lend her a certain classical nobility older than her years.
All went quiet. I am touching her pulse on both her wrists. I cannot detect much if any beat. But it is contact. We both ignore what Nashir was saying about what to do and say, because we have become absorbed in each others gaze.
I find she had a tranquillity bordering on nobility.I say quietly,
“You are far more beautiful than even you will admit.”
She smiles. It is a compliment.
Then I begin to see and to feel inside of me something completely contrary to and at odds with the composed expression on her nice symmetrical face.
Here’s the thing. I became more and more restless. My stomach twisted. I see her calm face cloud slightly with a sadness. But what I feel is her fear!
“You are not as composed as you are projecting. You have had a shock, you have had a frightening experience. It is recent. You came to this festival in spite of carrying this with you.”
Her eyes filled, although the facade I had looked through was still strong and was not about to fail her.
I asked if she would share.
She said I was right. She said the day before the festival, her boyfriend, who lives across the road, had dumped her.
I asked her how she had felt this in her heart. She was torn up inside, she said.
Neither of us expressed an objective opinion about how or why I had “seen” this from only her eyes. Since then (only 36 hours ago) I have not foolishly distracted myself by marvelling at the phenomenon of this vision.
I accept it and am surprised is all. I find it suggests that I may have the ability to help others more than I had realised.
In the last moments together, I said,
“The pain and turmoil inside you does not ‘belong’ to you. You don’t own it, and it doesn’t own you. It is a hard to live with emotion, which will pass, like all emotions.
We are not mechanisms. We have no off-switches.
What is permanently yours is the light of love in your own heart from which you came, to which you will return.
That is your strength and that is what will support and sustain you through this time. Keep your heart in view, do not try to examine your heart’s pain.
Your closeness to your living heart will be what helps shorten this period of pain.”
It was her turn. She looked at me and she said I was very very calm. Hearing, or rather seeing her see this, I suddenly felt like collapsing.
I had to close my eyes, look down, bite my lip to avoid breaking down. I composed myself. I said,
“Under this I am in turmoil.” Quickly I added,
“But this is only what is on me now. I am at peace in my heart.”
She asked to hug. We hugged. Moments later we were both gone.
Entire oceans and ice-capped mountain ranges under midday sun reflect and/or refract and sometimes even polarise received light.
Now consider this.
Light has always been light, from the early period in the young youth of the Universe, when light began to escape.
All this light, this energy from all sources, travels and fills space in every direction all the time.
Imagine a Universe with no eyes.
No eyes to capture and focus light, and no neural receptors to sense and interpret it.
Before the existence of and without the optical receptors of animate life, there is a Universe awash with light.
In this eyeless Universe is indiscernible form and there are no bounded shapes of any kind.
In fact, in this condition of complete absence of rational observers, no information beyond light’s natural wavelengths, frequencies and amplitudes is conveyed by the omnipresent light.
Omnipresence without sentience has validity as existence, which could be thought of as an abstraction of pure innocence, but it is quantified first and only as undifferentiated.
I am reminded of the phrase in Genesis, “And the Earth was without form, and void”. This is the description of Earth before the Spirit of God moved, and before God said, “Let there be light”. The next event was, “God saw the light, that it was good”.
Precisely because we are differentiated, and because we have the innate ability to see that this is so, we have experience of animate life.
And all our love, gratitude, joys, and transcendent longings have their origin here.
Only see the light.
Light has always been light, even during the babyhood of the Universe, before light could escape!
Light has it.
It all begins all the time.
It begins with every sentient being, with you, with me.
Electromagnetic energies, of which visible light is a portion, are constituent with our human form. And these energies animate our humanity, as well as they flow us through the time-lines of our human existence.
A blade of grass has no looking-glass. It is not green by reason of it absorbing all colours but green.
A grassblade is an abstraction of beauty in a pure material form. It is so and not further.
Night or day, in every grass-blade there is a blinding-bright beauty detonating in total silent anonymity.
Only allow that beauty to enter, to penetrate your heart, and, exactly because you are more actively constructed and construed than a blade of grass, you are able to see, to experience with your conscious awareness the glorious Sufficiency of You in all your innate beauty and latent power.
When that occurs, inspiration, the lack of it, pain, or the lack of it, in fact all states or stages of being in life click into their own place.
That place is where time began and ends. Where love and peace pertain. Like the Tardis, it is a LOT bigger on the inside than on the outside!
. . .
And the maelstrom of moments in which our beauty dances, exists as EveryNow.
“Love is the thread which weaves the empty sky with birdsong
When I write, I am representing in one way or another a self-similar fragment of the brilliance of the peace and love we all come from and to which we all return.
The brilliance reveals itself here, under the next leaf, there beneath the water’s ripple. It is behind old grief, and it is always always always after my next blink. It is EveryNow!
“Peter,” you say,
“You are defo in the zone of Zen.”
Yes, maybe so.
You are the one who says so about me. It is not just the me you see. It is you who says you see.
Whatever the zone is, even if the zone is ignored, denied, unsuspected or invisible under examination, it is you, it is I, it is ineradicably eternally in you and in I.
Because it shines in all sentient beings, and because all sentient beings take shape and form from all things, the zone of Zen you say you see is as much in and of you as it is of me and of EveryThing.
We all return to the brilliance of the peace we come from and the heart of love which animates and sustains us.
The brilliance is here for me to see in every blink and breath. It behoves me to remind you of it in the words I say and in the glance I cast.
If love is present EveryNow, due attention ought to be drawn to its brilliance – a splendour which touches us every one deeply, if we know it, or if we know it not!
I grew up toddling through my very own jungle all of my own discovery.
I was discovering wild – literally ‘wild’ – vegetation and flora. It was chock full of strange animals. The feelings and the inner conversations I shared with this natural jungle form an important part of my earliest memories of my own communion with this planet I had been born onto.
This was the world of hay meadows, pastures filled with flowers as vulnerable, as delicate and as small in scale as I myself.
This was a world of deep peaceful mid-England summer countryside over which blue skies glowed. A world in whose numberless green corners and turns I and only I had the regal pleasure of placing my feet, and I placed my sandalled feet wheresoever I chose.
I wondered at the brilliance of the coloured insects, their astonishing sudden turns of speed. Crickets and grasshoppers of many species would observe my observation with their honeycomb eyes, and vanish in a leap.
I fell in love with the daytime moths and the way they spread their wings and revealed hidden bright coloured patternings. I chased big butterflies to see them better when they landed, even though I knew most outperformed my own best turns of speed.
Lacewings, caterpillers, daddy-longlegs, millipedes, woodlice families, red soldier beetles on cow parsley, worms, silverfish, spiders fat, and spiders pinhead red, ants and of course fearsome horseflies feasting on cowpats.
These were my study, my entertainment and the close friends I loved to spend time with.
The very few aeroplanes that passed unhuriedly overhead themselves sounded like lazy booming stag beetles, because they were all four-engine propeller driven.
The flowering mixed grasses were my fascination. Here were tall treelike beings as far my eyes could see, and I was a giant striding among them with my bare legs.
Today I still thrill to the core of my boybeing at the slightest glimpse of the graceful complex completeness of grasses displaying their waving flower panickles to the pollen-dispersing winds.
Ah, my heart breaks for those bygone days when I had the certainty of ecstatic release as I walked into the luscious rich chewy smelliness of those waiting pastures of green.
The spaces in these warm unintimidating open fields were filled with conversation. Buzzes, barks, clicks, rustles, and the cawing of rooks so high up in the majestic elm tree canopy towering by the gated entrance to the pasture.
To this chatter I added my own. All these countless beings kept coming and going in front of my eyes. I was the only human being in sight.
I think I was asking everyone what they were doing, where they were going. Above all, my mind was wanting them to explain to me, to inform me, to give up the secrets to me of who they were, of what it was like to inhabit their tiny bodies so different to mine.
I have never ceased to ask these sacred private questions of these public tiny animals.
Intensive use of pesticides have all but completely done away with the clouds of insects that the spreading picnic cloth would send scattering up and away.
I have never ceased to ask these sacred questions.
The hedgerows, so wondrously populated by the high-rise dwellers of the field edge, have become fence posts connected by galvanised barbed wire
Wheat and barley stretches out of sight and their blue indigo cornflowers and the flutter-poppies in their red frocks have been weedkiller-ed, banned, abolished, banished.
And still I do not cease to question them.
I held those exquisite magic conversations. I spoke directly to the green beings. I chatted with the six and with the eight-legged kind. I fancied I could interpret their thoughts from the attitude of their antennae. I listened and learned from the crowing of the rooks.
They answered to my innocence. They imparted their unconscious wisdoms. Every word we exchanged together found a new place of holiness in my heart.
Though I know the answers now, yet I never cease to put the question.