Wednesday, April 07, 2010
I rise. It is morning. As always, I step onto my balcony, gaze at the ground below, the mountains looming. They remain, majestic, pure, beings who know who they are.
Above them, the sky is blue. White clouds hang in clusters, like sleeping angels gathered together, waiting, their wings folded.
In the distance, I see a tree, its naked arms thrust upward, a woman poised to be dressed by her handmaidens.
Light snow has fallen during the night. Its traces still kiss the earth here and there, but mostly it has vanished, a lover who goes leaving only a scent behind.
They and I--the mountain, the tree, the snow--are One. We are together in the midst of Mystery--that which is known embedded in that which is not known, a jewel hidden in a dark cloak.
April 7, 2010