I know that my writing here has been irregular,
know that it only means that the practice takes us deep.
The deeper She takes me,
the less I know how to put it all in words.
Her ruthless radiance stuns me.
So sister, this path will lead us into the real,
and it all may look very different
than what we could ever have imagined…
Who could guess that all that fixing and fighting,
resisting and improving yourself would
keep you an eternal arm-length away from the real medicine?
And that you, in those moments you remember love,
Who would guess that another name for
is Paradox? That once you are up on it’s back,
with this big hot furry animal between your legs,
the content of that heavy backpack
of theories and reasons of yours,
will drop down to the ground as an offering of mulch.
And that the beat of the tigers heart will remind you,
everything that happens is the path,
is the practice,
is the process.
Who could ever guess that underneath that
undercover identity of yours,
there is a circus princess soaring with
divine bravery and devotion?
Her holy body made of crazy longing and the kindest light.
And that the fire of love,
sometimes concentrated and dangerously ruthless,
sometimes a vast calm underlying pulse,
is your very being,
and it is here She pulls you
I bow. Always.