The hara of Zen, the ajna chakra between the eyes and the crown chakra atop the head in Raja yoga, even the Hridaya of Ramana on the right side of the heart, these centers of Spirit are as arbitrary as an untethered buoy drifting across an ocean. No matter where the Master points or the buoy drifts, it touches everything. Each of these points on my physical body has at one time or another proven a wormhole to another dimension. Now they are unnecessary and discarded. Lightning has yielded to rolling thunder. I am there all the time.
These thoughts,
Wind through leaves,
Presage the dead calm.
Sails and wings,
Flaps and flutters,
Shudder to a halt.
Mother help me.
Mother leave me
Alone and unborn,
Out of the storm,
Out of the storm,
Ever unborn.
"Going not knowing one goes, sitting not knowing one sits--this is true samadhi in Zen. Unless the ego is banished to this extent there cannot be total regeneration." - Harada-roshi
I am warned to be vigilant of any attachment to or pride in coming to recognize Existence-Knowledge-Bliss, as if I had attained a skill or something. Far from it. Ripening is not attaining. It is being. Yes, in samadhi I am simply atmosphere in which going occurs like wind. In day to day living the breath of this body-mind is just fog on the cold, clear pane of reality. I do know that I am a fortunate man. I have lived a full and wild life--blissed, bored, burned, blasted from pole to pole--and now this...ah! OK, it's attachment. Ripening begins with streaks and saturates slowly. I'll just enjoy the ride.
These thoughts,
Wind through leaves,
Presage the dead calm.
Sails and wings,
Flaps and flutters,
Shudder to a halt.
Mother help me.
Mother leave me
Alone and unborn,
Out of the storm,
Out of the storm,
Ever unborn.
"Going not knowing one goes, sitting not knowing one sits--this is true samadhi in Zen. Unless the ego is banished to this extent there cannot be total regeneration." - Harada-roshi
I am warned to be vigilant of any attachment to or pride in coming to recognize Existence-Knowledge-Bliss, as if I had attained a skill or something. Far from it. Ripening is not attaining. It is being. Yes, in samadhi I am simply atmosphere in which going occurs like wind. In day to day living the breath of this body-mind is just fog on the cold, clear pane of reality. I do know that I am a fortunate man. I have lived a full and wild life--blissed, bored, burned, blasted from pole to pole--and now this...ah! OK, it's attachment. Ripening begins with streaks and saturates slowly. I'll just enjoy the ride.
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