Paradise Before My Eyes
I was sitting Zazen this morning with the usual mind muck and waves of energy coming through my being. And there was also an unusual awareness that at the same time there was a “looking through my eyes” that was watching the birds and the sun as it poured over the neighbors peaked roof and spilled into my garden. I remembered a friend’s recent comment about how so many of the “awakened teachers” that she knows are hopelessly depressed or otherwise unhappy and she questioned the accuracy of their self-proclaimed I-Have-Arrived.
Just then a voice in my ears stated loudly “You will never be fearless.” Kind of a cheap shot, I thought to myself, since I spend much of my own mental energy sustaining that same belief. “You will never awaken.” The sound of the words deeply vibrated in my body. “You are incapable of the final understanding.” It said in a final blow, when my eyes that had been loosely focused upon the bark of a nearby tree changed their field of vision. No surprise since my mono-vision contact lenses are adept at distorting the horizon and isolating streams of data for my brain to interpret. But on this occasion there was a radial blur and the light from the sun that had been casting shadows between the branches of this not so old pine seemed more luminant than they had just a moment ago.
No longer was there a “person” who was incapable of seeing beyond the veil. There was only this garden before my eyes (I). Meaningless tears welled in the same eyes that were taking in all of the scenery. Blissed by the sound of the birds and curious at the bird of paradise dual bloom that was within my grasp had it not been for the screen on the window.
This unusual class of the exotic tropical plant is a double-blossom variety. The plant puts up one tight shoot and then unfolds its beauty with spinney golden petals with blue and red spikes. A short time follows – not that time matters at all — and a second blossom emerges from the same bud. At once it orients itself away from the mother and faces backwards before fanning its peacock head dress. Does it forget who it is in this backward stance? Does it know that it is still and always connected to its Source? Does it feel separate even though it is on the same stalk?
All an illusion.
Afterall it is only a flower, eh? But this morning in the midst of the metaphor, for me, there were tears of joy as I felt my own connection with that which I turned my back upon so many years ago. Indeed as the “me” that will never awaken, fell away and the “I” that always sees through my eyes gazed upon the flower that was always right outside my window … there was simply no need for a voice to proclaim i-have-arrived.
