Sonnenfinsernis by Michael Karrer
Following the finger to the cloud-shrouded moon
The light is dark since dusk and soon
The watery orb up in rain-soaked shadows
Chandra is lost as Rahu swallows
Following the vastitudes of “me” and “I”
Clouds that whirl around “mine” and “my”
Close your eyes quiet your mind
Deconstruct space deconject time
Drenched In the light of pure consciousness
No bells or whistles, no angelic choruses
Just the deep joy of realization upon your cheek
It is the sun that shines in the moon that you seek
Nothing to fear no need to run
Consciousness shines shadows undone
In the deep darkness that Rahu has won
When we loose sight of the moon and sun
Even in the total eclipse of the sun.
I’d just meditated on the breath… we breathe in, hold, and then we need to breath out – receive, hold, release, repeat – or die.
In love, we receive, hold and release the object of our love in the eternal moment of each now, in fact we are different every moment and so is he/she, so different people meet, receive, hold and release one another each eternal moment, hence we have eternal love. Otherwise it stagnants and dies. Or one lives carrying the past. Or the fabric of time-space tears.
But it bloody hurts like hell sometimes, just that the one who hurts is not who we usually think it is, since each moment is a new “I”. We just continually in each moment identify with the hurt, giving the illusion of a hurting “I”, kinda like the video clips I’d just been editing, each frame a separate moment, edited to make some kind of coherent story.
Connection and attachment are not conjoint. We can honour the connection, but we don’t make it an attachment, a chain that binds.
Sirius Black: “…. but know this; the ones that love us never really leave us. And you can always find them in here [puts his hand to Harry’s heart].” Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Moonflower - Epiphyllum oxypetalum
He stole in with the moonlight, fair of face, clear of brow, this beautiful crystal child. Innocent eyes hooded by the wisdom of a much older soul, he came asking questions of the universe. Conversations without words, movement without motion, he sits in stillness, at once in this Here and in the stream of infinity. Ignorant potential, or realized Nothingness?
I watch him retrace the path to full perfection, at once vulnerable and invincible in his glory. We can only meet the moonflower if we stay awake. To taste the sweetness of his unfolding, to drink his fragrance and bask in his beauty; the heart is quenched with delight.
He’s here to grace this one night; sleep and he’s gone by morning light.
In that nano moment between the beginning of thought and the beginning of breath, it has sunk back into the primordial swamp, that glimpse of realization, that wisp of clarity.
It started with longing, longing for the other, longing for the end of longing, longing for the self.
Self and other, one and all, all and nothing,
I am one. I am all. I am nothing.
One with the self, one with the all, one with the nothing,
The lotus sleeps in the swamp of all possibilities.