From novice to winner
and when we win
the veil once thin
grows again
but thicker
Now, now… I am now other
Our inner light goes dim
and as it is in darkness
we stumble
& with every misstep we remember
We never won
We were meant to be humble
beginners always, playful and curious
setting sail at every day break
expecting a middle, never an end
but the middle is difficult, there is no shore in sight,
no person, no bird, not even a tree
but that is where we often are if we were brave enough for sea
the sirens will sound, but on my boat there is only me
no crew to call out, no one…
no mast for them to tie me
only my anchor, my compass, and my sail. only us.
only us 3
we head
we heed
and sometimes hedonistically, we lead a sea of whims and notifications in frenzy
sometimes I think the sea is that cup we all like to be
and when sailing is hard then it must be full
and it is my cue to empty
Half full half empty, a destination too dull (if you ask me)
If our body is water, and earth is too
then why cant I liken to rivers, whirlpools, wells, lakes, snow storms, and the sea
Every time I arrive at my Murano cup destination
I submit to its fragility
I suddenly lose suchness to my soul, it wains and its inner sound gets weak
trapped in glass and architected miseries
Much of my day is wasted fighting demons I never called my enemy
and when not necessary,
all this fighting leaves no room for my muchness, no room for me
Again I find myself alone in the middle
but I have exchanged the three for glass and a whole lot of prestige?
The middle you see is when the sea looks like an endless blue sheet,
the beginning is too far to remember, and the end is unseen.
How do we get past the middle?
A fish that jumps at me,
slips from my hands,
twists on my deck and ends up again at sea.
I sleep and awaken fumbling in my trinkets forgetting my deeds.
Allergic to fish, the scales like blades,
the truth will make us all bleed.
Much of my muchness trapped in glass
Song to my suchness too far to grasp
Others and my otherness always at an impasse
Until my heart mind reminds me
cups break but the water, the water is free
like Moses: we can part the sea
May your heart open and not break
You get no guarantee
May you live with hearts wide open
open enough they choose to break free
Let your heart break open
A part in every sea
Amen
Amma,
Fodder
Prestige (n.)
1650s, "trick, illusion, imposture" (senses now obsolete), from French prestige (16c.) "deceit, imposture, illusion" (in Modern French, "illusion, magic, glamour"), from Latin praestigium "delusion, illusion" (see prestigious).
“prestige is like a powerful magnet that warps even your beliefs about what you enjoy. It causes you to work not on what you like, but what you’d like to like.” Paul Graham via Maria Popova
Suchness
“Tathātā (/ˌtætəˈtɑː/; Sanskrit: तथाता; Pali: tathatā) is a Buddhist term variously translated as "thusness" or "suchness," referring to the nature of reality free from conceptual elaborations and the subject–object distinction.” Wikipedia
Muchness
The ever stumbling beginner