Warm water, wash face, trousers, shirt, hang from rope. Wash dishes, make bed, sweep dust from the camper. Soap suds soak into the warming earth. Ants carry crumbs, birds steal crust. Flys begin the days assault on eyes, mouth, skin.
Arms reach to sky, sweep to earth. Read. Doze. Walk through trees. Swim.
Fried tomatoes with salt from the lake. Bread toasted on the burner, hummous, olives.
Walk the ridgeline. Pick paper daisies. Capture on film salt encrusted river debris, a dead grasshopper, a rock, stone, branch.
Drink tea, write, meditate. Dream the world into better distance. Prostrate to the gods of camp - the quiet lake spirits and tree sprites you camp beside.
Slice beans, chop potatoes, herbs, greens. Break sticks. Set match to tinder. Drizzle oil in to pan, wait for bubbles.
Dusk fades, fire licks. Moon rises over whispering treeline. Fire crackles. Stars pop and fizzle.
The One Who is Intimate to All Beings said,
Beloved, your questions require the answers that come
through direct living experience.
The way of experience begins with a breath
such as the breath you are breathing now.
Awakening into the luminous reality
may dawn in the momentary throb
between any two breaths.
The breath flows in and just before it turns
to flow out,
there is a flash of pure joy -
life is renewed.
Awaken into that.
As the breath is released and flows out,
there is a pulse as it turns to flow in.
In that turn, you are empty.
Enter that emptiness as the source of all life.
With Love,Are you on HIVE yet? Earn for writing! Referral link for FREE account here
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