|
Listen. I want to tell you something. This morning is bright after all the steady rain, and every iris, peony, rose, opens its mouth, rejoicing. I want to say, wake up, open your eyes, there's a snow-covered road ahead, a field of blankness, a sheet of paper, an empty screen. Even the smallest insects are singing, vibrating their entire bodies, tiny violins of longing and desire. We were made for song. I can't tell you what prayer is, but I can take the breath of the meadow into my mouth, and I can release it for the leaves' green need. I want to tell you your life is a blue coal, a slice of orange in the mouth, cut hay in the nostrils. The cardinals' red song dances in your blood. Look, every month the moon blossoms into a peony, then shrinks to a sliver of garlic. And then it blooms again. - Barbara Crooker The purpose of your Life Is to be Confronted By a problem You cannot solve This problem Is your soul's Blueprint It haunts you And finds you Again and again You will try Relentlessly To resolve this problem And in your trying You will deepen Into the primordial Waters Of wisdom, Beyond understanding. This problem Is the Beloved That won't let you Get away This problem only asks That you live into her This koan with no Meaning This mystery school With one student This repetitive question This unsolvable Problem This riddle Is your path It is the way you walk the earth Your life itself Is the answer - Maya Luna
|
Archives
May 2024
Categories
All
|