“…keep empty, keep available, resist not, what comes uninvited.”   

-Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

My dreams and their reality intrigue me, nudging me ever closer to knowing myself.  My friend often says, our Unconscious is smarter than we are.  He’s skilled at helping me explore their meaning.  Keeping a sense of humor is more comfortable.  I like laughing out loud.  Reminds me of the poem by Mary Oliver where she says, “Have you heard the laughter that comes, now and again, out of my startled mouth?”  That’s been my experience lately.   Laughing out loud in dreams, at myself, sometimes for no reason at all. 

While I may think I’m alone on this journey of life, there are some shady guests in the house.  They patiently wait for their hostess!  Who joins me at the table?  Feels like their invitation is an ancient one and my yes, an infinite yes made long ago.  No doubt, they’ve been invited.  (My home has become an airbnb.). I’m patient too.  Oh, it’s quite the story I’m in, all of which has led to my living from a place of profound peace.  The possibilities are endless.  There are no more endings. 


Becoming a Mighty Kindness

Zero-Circle – Rumi, 1207-73

Be helpless and dumbfounded,
unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come
from grace to gather us up.
We are too dull-eyed to see the beauty.
If we say Yes, We Can we’ll be lying.
If we say No, We Don’t See It,
that No will behead us
and shut tight our window into spirit.
So let us not be sure of anything,
besides ourselves, and only that, so
miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in a zero-circle, mute,
we will be saying finally,
with tremendous eloquence, Lead Us.
When we’ve totally surrendered to that beauty,
we’ll become a mighty kindness.

My friend read this out loud to me this week and I was deeply moved. Poetry has a way of suspending time and can become a portal to ourselves. I’m unable to decipher the meaning of this ancient mystic.   And yet, as I listen, my heart sinks back into Itself, there’s a sense of the  sacred.  Not sure how this touching happens.

I see you.  To have someone see us, really see us and to feel seen, reconnects us with the knowledge that we are One with. Awareness sees Awareness. Love knows Love. There’s a sort of remembrance that happens when we encounter another person who recognizes the truth of our being, especially when we may feel asleep to our true nature. Love will not be denied. I’m learning that whether it’s through ecstasy or agony or much more often the ordinary, life is rich with possibilities. The closer I stay to being true to who I am, the more luscious life is. A friend recently said to me, “I want you to be deliriously happy, and to radiate your enlightened love into the world.” I am loved.

The Sufi poet and mystic Rumi inspires us in Zero-Circle to “be helpless and dumbfounded”. Whereas, these traits in our contemporary society are sometimes shunned or considered a weakness, our poet invites us here. Come in, relax into places of unknowing and mystery. As we lean-in to this emptiness and the realization that we are not the do-ers, only then can we sink into the heart. We are Light and Shadow. Here in the wounds, we’re poised to let the Light in, through the cracks of not-knowing, humility, desire and longing. “Then a stretcher will come from grace to gather us up.”

“So let us not be sure of anything, besides ourselves, and only that, so miraculous beings come running to help.” I love this line! They’re already here. Fellow light travelers. My Lovers. Teachers. Consciousness. Dreams. Ourselves. Trees. Oceans. Love Itself…in myriads of color and forms. Oh, the freedom of living this life from the seat of Love. Before this week, I had never heard of Zero-Circle or my last blog The Layers. Another example of the synchronicity of the Universe. “I have walked through many lives, some of them my own, and I am not as I was, though some principle of being abides, from which I struggle not to stray…” I’m going to try and memorize both of these poems…good for the heart and soul…and morning commute!

What is a zero-circle…could it relate to that intuition there’s no longer an ending? Well, no worries…it’s all unfolding…

(The following is adapted from a fellow blogger.)
Have you encountered someone whose entire being seems to radiate a sort of profound kindness, that envelopes you and makes you feel wholly seen, deeply held and completely loved? When I am around them, I feel clever. Interesting. Attractive. Maybe even a little bit shy. They warm me. The truth of who I am is felt deeply and in their eyes I can do no wrong and that everything good in the world is possible.

I believe that person- who exudes love like a rare, intoxicating and exotic perfume – is what Rumi might deem a Mighty Kindness.

True Confession: I want to be like that. I want to be a Mighty Kindness. I want to see the world as full of possibility and hope and be a beacon of love that guides people home. Back to themselves. Back to the love that is born in the very marrow of their being. Back to truth.


The Layers

Thank you to Frank Hall for his deeply moving reciting of this poem at UU Westport church homecoming service this morning.  So emotional…touching the hopeful and sad places within. I’m grateful for the inspiration and sense of belonging I feel in this community. 


I have walked through many lives, 

some of them my own,

and I am not who I was,

though some principle of being

abides, from which I struggle

not to stray.

When I look behind,

as I am compelled to look

before I can gather strength

to proceed on my journey,

I see the milestones dwindling

toward the horizon

and the slow fires trailing

from the abandoned camp-sites,

over which scavenger angels

wheel on heavy wings.

Oh, I have made myself a tribe

out of my true affections,

and my tribe is scattered!

How shall the heart be reconciled

to its feast of losses?

In a rising wind

the manic dust of my friends,

those who fell along the way,

bitterly stings my face.

Yet I turn, I turn,

exulting somewhat,

with my will intact to go

wherever I need to go,

and every stone on the road

precious to me.

In my darkest night,

when the moon was covered

and I roamed through wreckage,

a nimbus-clouded voice

directed me:

“Live in the layers,

not on the litter.”

Though I lack the art

to decipher it,

no doubt the next chapter

in my book of transformations

is already written.

I am not done with my changes.