What is

True is walking on a journey
of both ultimate and conventional,
equally valid, empty yet full.
Contradiction, you say?
But I whisper: no.
Look. Look all around you
and what do you see?
Like specs and dots in a dance,
seen and unseen, right here, right now.

When I sit without me, frozen in time,
what arises? Not human, not thought-
-driven any longer. And how can anything
be taken personally when there is
no longer a person? No longer a person
yet a functioning form, responding
to the winds of change.

How to get here?
Slowly, with intention to see,
a reference frame of thoughtlessness,
taking thoughts off, one by one,
as dirty old clothes, no longer useful.
One by one, catch them as they arise,
pause and ask them “what are you?”
Not “me,” nor “mine,” nor “I.”
No such thing exists. Illusion.

And fear? You always ask.
A hump to pass, hop over,
holding breath for a moment,
while impermanence washes it away,
wave after wave, riding each one
patiently. Poof, poof, poof!
Like fireworks, or fireflies,
buzzing away into the night.
And each morn brings
with it less, yet so much more.

You ask me to explain with words.
Difficult. Why?
Words give birth to what pains you,
thoughts whirling everywhere,
unexpected yet unsurprising,
day in day out in endless cycle.
Look. Look around you and answer:
are you truly happy now, free?

When you leave words, and thoughts,
yet sense enough, then you know
there is only simplicity, purity, love,
flow. Only this, stripped of all that pains.
Do you believe when I tell you it is joy?
Don’t believe, only look and see directly.
See directly into everything,
heart and mind combined,
nothing left yet everything here.


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