Already One
We are already one. But
we imagine that we are
not. And what we have
to recover is our original
unity. What we have to
be is what we are.
~ Thomas Merton
Already One
One
Duino Elegies – The Second Elegy
By Rainer Maria Rilke
Every Angel is terror. And yet,
ah, knowing you, I invoke you, almost deadly
birds of the soul. Where are the days of Tobias,
when one of the most radiant of you stood at the simple threshold,
disguised somewhat for the journey and already no longer awesome
(Like a youth, to the youth looking out curiously).
Let the Archangel now, the dangerous one, from behind the stars,
take a single step down and toward us: our own heart,
beating on high would beat us down. What are you?
Early successes, Creation’s favourite ones,
mountain-chains, ridges reddened by dawns
of all origin – pollen of flowering godhead,
junctions of light, corridors, stairs, thrones,
spaces of being, shields of bliss, tempests
of storm-filled, delighted feeling and, suddenly, solitary
mirrors: gathering their own out-streamed beauty
back into their faces again.
For we, when we feel, evaporate: oh, we
breathe ourselves out and away: from ember to ember,
yielding us fainter fragrance. Then someone may say to us:
‘Yes, you are in my blood, the room, the Spring-time
is filling with you’….. What use is that: they cannot hold us,
we vanish inside and around them. And those who are beautiful,
oh, who holds them back? Appearance, endlessly, stands up,
in their face, and goes by. Like dew from the morning grass,
what is ours rises from us, like the heat
from a dish that is warmed. O smile: where? O upward gaze:
new, warm, vanishing wave of the heart – :
oh, we are that. Does the cosmic space,
we dissolve into, taste of us then? Do the Angels
really only take back what is theirs, what has streamed out of them,
or is there sometimes, as if by an oversight, something
of our being, as well? Are we as mingled with their
features, as there is vagueness in the faces
of pregnant women? They do not see it in the swirling
return to themselves. (How should they see it?)
Lovers, if they knew how, might utter
strange things in night air. Since it seems
everything hides us. Look, trees exist; houses,
we live in, still stand. Only we
pass everything by, like an exchange of air.
And all is at one, in keeping us secret, half out of
shame perhaps, half out of inexpressible hope.
Lovers, each satisfied in the other, I ask
you about us. You grasp yourselves. Have you a sign?
Look, it happens to me, that at times my hands
become aware of each other, or that my worn face
hides itself in them. That gives me a slight
sensation. But who would dare to exist only for that?
You, though, who grow in the other’s delight
until, overwhelmed, they beg:
‘No more’ -: you, who under your hands
grow richer like vintage years of the vine:
who sometimes vanish, because the other
has so gained the ascendancy: I ask you of us. I know
you touch so blissfully because the caress withholds,
because the place you cover so tenderly
does not disappear: because beneath it you feel
pure duration. So that you promise eternity
almost, from the embrace. And yet, when you’ve endured
the first terrible glances, and the yearning at windows,
and the first walk together, just once, through the garden:
Lovers, are you the same? When you raise yourselves
one to another’s mouth, and hang there – sip against sip:
O, how strangely the drinker then escapes from their action.
Weren’t you amazed by the caution of human gesture
on Attic steles? Weren’t love and departure
laid so lightly on shoulders, they seemed to be made
of other matter than ours? Think of the hands
how they rest without weight, though there is power in the torso.
Those self-controlled ones know, through that: so much is ours,
this is us, to touch our own selves so: the gods
may bear down more heavily on us. But that is the gods’ affair.
If only we too could discover a pure, contained
human place, a strip of fruitful land of our own,
between river and stone! For our own heart exceeds us,
even as theirs did. And we can no longer
gaze after it into images, that soothe it, or into
godlike bodies, where it restrains itself more completely.
Translated by A. S. Kline
© 2001 All Rights Reserved
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Song of Mahamudra
by Tilopa
From: Teachings of the Buddha
Edited by Jack Kornfield
Mahamudra is beyond all words and symbols,
But for you, Naropa, earnest and loyal, must this be said.
The Void needs no reliance; Mahamudra rests on naught.
Without making an effort, but remaining natural,
One can break the yoke thus gaining liberation.
If one looks for naught when staring into space;
If with the mind one then observes the mind;
One destroys distinctions and reaches Buddhahood.
The clouds that wander through the sky have no roots, no home,
Nor do the distinctive thoughts floating through the mind.
Once the Self-mind is seen, Discrimination stops.
In space, shapes and colors form
But neither by black nor white is space tinged.
From the Self-mind all things emerge;
The Mind by virtues and by vices is not stained.
The darkness of ages cannot shroud the glowing sun;
The long eons of Samsara ne’er can hide the Mind’s brilliant light.
Though words are spoken to explain the Void, the Void as such can
never be expressed. Though we say “the Mind is a bright light,
” it is beyond all words and symbols. Although the Mind is void
in essence, all things it embraces and contains.
Do naught with the body but relax;
Shut firm the mouth and silent remain;
Empty your mind and think of naught.
Like a hollow bamboo rest at ease your body.
Giving not nor taking, put your mind at rest.
Mahamudra is like a mind that clings to naught.
Thus practicing, in time you will reach Buddhahood.
The practice of Mantra and Perfections, instructions in the Sutras and
Precepts, and teaching from the Schools and Scriptures will not bring
realization of the Innate Truth. For if the mind when filled with some
desire should seek a goal, it only hides the Light.
One who keeps the Tantric Precepts yet discriminates, betrays the
vows of Awakening,
Cease all activity; abandon all desire; let thoughts rise and fall as they
will like the ocean waves.
One who never harms the Non-abiding nor the Principles of non-distinction,
upholds the Tantric Precepts.
He who abandons craving and clings not to this or that,
Perceives the real meaning given in the Scriptures.
In Mahamudra all one’s sins are burned; in Mahamudra one is reletantric, preceptsased from
the prison of this world. This is the Dharma’s supreme torch. Those who
disbelieve it are fools who ever wallow in misery and sorrow.
To strive for liberation one should rely on a Guru. When your mind receives
the Guru’s blessing emancipation is at hand.
Alas, all things in this world are meaningless; they are but sorrow’s seeds.
Small teachings lead to acts. One should only follow teachings that are great.
To transcend duality is the Kingly View; to conquer distractions is the
Royal Practice; the Path of No-practice is the Way of the Buddhas. 0ne who
treads that Path reaches Buddhahood.
Transient is this world; like phantoms and dreams,
Substance it has none. Grasp not the world nor your kin;
Cut the strings of lust and hatred; meditate in woods and mountains.
If without effort you remain loosely in the “natural state,”
soon Mahamudra you will win and attain the Non-attainment.
Cut the root of the tree and the leaves will wither;
cut the root of your mind and Samsara falls.
The light of any lamp dispels in a moment the darkness of long eons;
The strong light of the mind in but a flash will burn the veil of ignorance.
Whoever clings to mind sees not the truth of what’s beyond the mind.
Whoever strives to practice Dharma finds not the truth of Beyond-practice.
One should cut cleanly through the root of the mind and stare naked.
One should thus break away from all distinctions and remain at ease.
One should not give and take but remain natural, for Mahamudra is beyond
all acceptance and rejection.
Since the consciousness is not born, no one can obstruct it or soil it;
Staying in the “Unborn” realm all appearances will dissolve into the
ultimate Dharma.
All self-will and pride will vanish into naught.
The supreme Understanding transcends all this and that.
The supreme Action embraces great resourcefulness without attachment.
The supreme Accomplishment is to realize immanence without hope.
At first a yogi feels his mind is tumbling like a waterfall;
In mid-course, like the Ganges, it flows on slow and gentle;
In the end, it is a great vast ocean,
Where the lights of Child and Mother merge in one.
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Conscious Drifting
Finding the Natural Meditations in Your Own Life
From Awakening to the Sacred
By Lama Surya Das
Natural mind or primordial intelligence informs those moments when we are most true to ourselves. These moments often occur when we are doing something I like to call “conscious drifting.” Conscious drifting helps us get a glimpse of our natural Eden-like state. This is something we already are, not something we have to be injected with or acquire from anyone else.
Here are some examples of conscious drifting: staring at an ocean, lake, pond, river, waterfall, forest, or garden. Surprisingly enough, I think that fishing is for many people an instinctive expression of the human longing for peace, space, alone time, and a natural form of contemplative sweetness. One of my brother’s mathematician friends spends a good part of each evening in the bathtub with a swiveling tray that holds papers filled with scrawled equations over his watery lap. Driving to my local post office, I often see a woman ambling along with her large dog. They both seem very happy. Conscious drifting has nothing to do with shirking responsibility, not to mention thinking or worrying. Quite the opposite. The symbol Thich Nhat Hanh chose for his hermitage at Plum Village in southern France is a hammock, which more than anything else expresses what “drifting” means.
You can drift with others. “Let’s take a walk,” we say to a mate or a friend. Then without a real destination, we head off. “I think there’s a concert in the park. We could listen to some music. Or maybe ride the paddleboats.” Drifting is letting things happen. Letting the mind drift. Sitting in the rocking chair and letting the clouds drift by. The secret inner aspect of this practice is relinquishing control by surrendering and trusting. Everything will be fine; what’s the big deal?
Why is conscious drifting a spiritual practice? Because it helps us connect to our inner being. Our innate aliveness. Just being. To just be for a minute without trying to do anything; this is a spiritual discipline. It helps bring us more into the spirit of the moment-a spontaneous expression of oneness. We are in the right place at the right time. We can afford to just be there and enjoy it. Nothing special is required.
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One Whisper of the Beloved
By Rumi
Lovers share a sacred decree –
to seek the Beloved.
They roll head over heels,
rushing toward the Beautiful One
like a torrent of water.
In truth, everyone is a shadow of the Beloved –
Our seeking is His seeking,
Our words are His words.
At times we flow toward the Beloved
like a dancing stream.
At times we are still water
held in His pitcher.
At times we boil in a pot
turning to vapor –
that is the job of the Beloved.
He breathes into my ear
until my soul
takes on His fragrance.
He is the soul of my soul –
How can I escape?
But why would any soul in this world
want to escape from the Beloved?
He will melt your pride
making you thin as a strand of hair,
Yet do not trade, even for both worlds,
One strand of His hair.
We search for Him here and there
while looking right at Him.
Sitting by His side we ask,
“O Beloved, where is the Beloved?”
Enough with such questions! –
Let silence take you to the core of life.
All your talk is worthless
When compared to one whisper
of the Beloved.
Ode 442 translated by Jonathan Star and Shahram Shiva
A Garden Beyond Paradise: The Mystical Poetry of Rumi
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