|
A poem: Wholeness (Pūrṇamadaḥ) Wholeness was never in question, though it certainly felt that way Constantly dealing with mental pollution, overstimulation, an aching need for love The practice started to seep in, taking up the space, pushing into the crevices… Complex Sanskrit prayers baffling your sense of how to even begin Ram’s name battling with the ego’s wish to stay self-absorbed A guru’s look leaving your whole being
at a blissful, featherweight standstill And yet the pressure cooker of sadhana builds again Finally some non-dual reality shows itself underneath it all. You rest and then drop the mantra into the crystal clear space of refuge And now starved for sitting down, Ram nam with twins, constant kirtan but little rest… A practice at the altar brings the felt sensation of being filled up with Spirit, bathed in loving awareness And the wholeness is holding you in bliss again Eventually when you feel it enough The trust becomes almost unquestionable, nevermind if it takes twenty years It’s Ma, it’s Baba, it’s consciousness,
an ineffable place of discovery Before long all you’ll want is That which you are.
|
