The other morning, as I was sitting on my back deck, I was
suddenly struck by the pattern of shadows on my leg. Just like that, I heard the first line of the
poem below. So, following once more in
my tradition of boldly sharing my “bad poetry,” here we go. I also hope it helps span the gap between
relating personal experience to descriptions found in text books.
Me in my leopard leotard
of wholeness
The weight of light
and shadow on bare skin
reveals the super
supple:
Silence gulping,
“Brahman eating”
as I sip my morning
coffee.
How to move without
tearing these finest of silk stockings?
Oh, that I might rip
a hole in wholeness!
A hole in wholeness -
Impossible, I know,
and yet the tear is felt in every cell
and the very Silence.
Paradox is simply
That: here, there and everywhere.
Which is different
from “not knowing” or even being “lost.”
I remain the Queen of
Contradictions and Conundrums.
Don’t look to me for
answers
but good inquiry can
be quite useful
until it’s not
not when god gives
morning coffee,
cicadas humming their
Samaveda
thru the perfect summer
air
as my Retirement
unfolds
and leopard leotards
appear
out of Absolutely
Nowhere.
It took a big effort to haul myself out of the silence of
the leotards and pick up pen and pad.
That effort in itself shattered the direct perception. But, it was so paradoxical the mind couldn’t
let the issue drop. I recalled Harri
Aalto recently emphasizing that one can indeed see the Absolute – a seeming
impossibility and contradiction. I also
immediately recognized these leotards as a version of Wang Liping’s practice
with his reflections and shadows. I
couldn’t recollect exactly how the story goes, so I looked it up:
One day the Wayfarer
of Pure Serenity took Wang Liping to a small reservoir, where he had prepared a
large plank. The Wayfarer had Liping sit
cross-legged on the plank, then eased it out into the water, where it gradually
came to a stop in the middle of the reservoir.
Liping sat on the plank in a state of silence… [When] the Wayfarer was
sure that Liping had reached the right state, he disturbed the surface of the
water with his hand, sending a wave of ripples toward the center of the
reservoir. When the ripples approached
the plank, Wang Liping’s reflection in the water was shattered; he himself just
felt a shudder in his heart… When the
ripples had passed, the surface of the water again became smooth as ever, and
Liping’s body and mind returned to their former quietude…
The young apprentice
told his mentor all about the sensation he’d had on the water, finding it quite
beyond his understanding. … [Through
cultivation] the yang celestial soul and the yin earthly soul in his body had
both been strengthened and sensitized.
From the ordinary point of view, shadows and reflections are unreal,
things have form but not substance… From the Taoist point of view, however,
these “unreal shadows and reflections with form but no substance” also have
ethereal force, which can be felt by the body on contact… This is why Liping’s body and mind stirred
when his reflection was disturbed in the water.
When one gets to the “middle three realms,” shadows and reflections are
no longer insubstantial forms; now they have form, they also have
substance. This is the principle
underlying the practice of curing illness by working on people’s shadows, as
Wang Liping later learned from his mentor.
Opening the Dragon Gate: The Making of a Taoist Wizard, translated by
Thomas Cleary
Interestingly, once you compare these experiences, you
realize that both Wang Liping and I found it “quite beyond” our
understanding. This is confusing and new
territory of what’s normal. It’s not what the mind is used to. There are new rules and possibilities. Or, to site Nisargadatta:
A good measure of
spiritual maturity is the degree to which one can appreciate paradox and
ambiguity.
Settling into this maturity comfortably requires both
experience and intellectual understanding. … to wit, the effort at bad poetry as
I try to get the words precise. I hope
it helps.
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