K in 1925
Now Krishnamurti’s Notebook reminds me – with him – of the infinite, drifting yet rooted, abundant and alive Consciousness un-furnished … the Presence everywhere, which takes him, he wakes into, all through the night … Lotus.
This actually subsumes and permeates ANYTHING that curdles itself into a delusion on the surface. Never is it not HERE and EVERYWHERE. Always. Whatever I – or anyone else – am doing.
I am not sleeping well; so I relax when I can, with this space – the living humanity, without thoughts … for up to half a minute, a minute, maybe; then it becomes a thought, goes stale, gives birth to thought and multiplies, and has to be re-discovered. But I know it is never, cannot possibly be absent. The Silence holds the alchemy of anything that troubles me. Learn to watch and be, without engaging. Let it unfold. The Holy One knows what s/he is doing.
I AM a bad feeling today. Relax into its fluid Now, don’t quarrel it: it flows and alters. Just like K saying “I AM anger”. I learned things very profoundly with K. They take a lifetime to mature.
The cover photo on Krishnamurti’s Notebook – does he, do we leave one or two pairs of footprints in the sand? … as in this story:
To “I AM” the bad feeling … takes responsibility for it, whomever it attaches to. Here it is, in my breath as space, and I centre it. Its nature changes, and it begins to look like a Sri Chakra yantra.
It isn’t judged as “bad” any more, it loses tension. Those attributes lose strength and melt as soon as seen, like the way Consciousness melts back into a tiny I-thought capture. So truly the Real Life is a river, a flame.
Not only do the single footprints in the sand accommodate the Teacher and my burden: they suggest taking responsibility – coming home – no projection. Sometimes they are two pairs of footprints in the sand, then they elide again. Thus is life … the watery crescents.
I watched the tide coming in at Kilve … the brown Bristol channel, with faraway Wales and an enormous sky, the push and power of small ripples swelling together over stones and rocky channels – the miniature tsunamis, the end-game of the ocean wave, wind and moon, as it rises and fills, rises and fills countless fractal neighbourhoods – the occupying power of mind. All is mind. There is no conflict in the abundance and withdrawal of the tide; the circle of the breath, in and out.
The beach is a capillary. My body is a capillary. The cosmos is a capillary to its Self.
My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom.
This blog is a vehicle to promote my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books) – along with many other creations in house.
I write, illustrate, design and print my books. Watch this space.