it is the northwest - lake - manasarovar..
(created first in the mind of brahma)
the lake that purifies, clarifies, refines..
sees what needs seeing..
tells the truth..
holds the center..
i am hooped into the mind of the high holies..
the ancients, the ancestors ~
orbiting it sunwise..deiseal..
keeping the lake on my right..
~ the prosperous course ~
widdershins..being contrary to the sun..
almost never a wise choice..
pradakshina... the yoginis call it..
with the sun..with the light..holy on the right..
even driving to the parking spot
the mind finds hush..
as if the intention begins by the getting there..
the long road walk to the lake herself..
i open the space with the two grande trees..
rather, the two grande trees open the space..
thank you very much..
the seal.. the cloaking device kicks in..
ahh!
i stop at grandmother tree..
receive her blessing, ask for teachings,
offer her my heart mind for the ring 'round..
heading sunwise along the path..
this time of year the maples have dropped their finery
over the road, the lane, the trail..
bits of rusty gold weathered leathered
leaves and jewels.. shimmer and shake..
catch in the empty branches ..
held for just one moment more..
the light is flecked..
spiraling
thru dew
thru moist
that hoists the wind
that shifts
the light back to itself
brighter, kinder..
i have hidden small buddhas and bodhisattvas
in the trees..
the nooks,
the cranny of bark that harks the holy moly
~ see here!
some are where i left them..
some have had hands own them for their own -
which is right and good..
they herald themselves to me;
if i walk past without a pranam..
i am stopped in my tracks..
it's true..
i catch up with myself
and turn..
turn to see the very tree where
i have planted ganesha or yoda or buddha ..
astonishing ~
the forest surrounding, abounding the lake
is lush and flush with every green..
fronds and bract and branch bush about..
creep the crawl to make dense the woodland..
it is wet. it is fresh. it is mushroom.
steamy, damp, dank with thick..
i like it.. i like it ALOT ..
~ it likes me back ~
the throne room, the serpent path, monet lane..
ganesha's ottoman, the stump of raven-kachina,
tara's yoni, handstand hill, sutra cliff,
mala dip cove, heartwish rock...
just to name a few of the roadside attractions
encircling the loch..
when i sit still ~ perched on sutra cliff,
high, high up above the dazzling diamond waters of whistle -
when i begin reciting the heart sutra aloud -
small birds..a few always..flit to edge of a branch..
tilt their wee heads to the right..it seems.. and listen up..
form is emptiness, emptiness is form
always, most often, almost every time,
eagle soars heart level chanting skyward..
believe it!
emptiness is no other than form,
form is no other than emptiness
without fail, inevitably, each time,
raven attempts to bamboozle me out of my mantra..
hoodwinking me out of my practice ..
om gate gate
para gate
parasamgate bodhi svaha
fragrance is loud,
sound has aroma,
touch listens deep,
sight is tangible,
taste sees..
the senses bequeath themselves
one to the other..
the whole lake goes transparent..
the i goes translucent...
and the day..
a nimbus surrounds the entire universe
winged..grounded on the brunch-crunch-road
back to the car ~
wohelo!
what's for breakfast?
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