BACK TO FRIENDS|
Maarten Turkstra SCHOLAR
OR GYPSY & OTHER POEMS |
Has the blue white light of the etheric
body been apprehended within the vision
of that third, the mind's, eye.
No, No! Not this, not incarnation,
Not dream consciousness, not manifestation.
Leave me in the Tushita Heaven of the Buddhas.
No Nirvana, and no absence of Nirvana.
No, No! No name, no place, no face,
No fame, no harsh words, no power,
No absence of not having and
No absence of having in abundance.
No lies, no whys, no wherefores, no whatnot.
Instant cool tingling light in the marrow,
the frame structured of inner light
with eyes in every corner of the vision.
Seen from within, a bridge across seasons,
A melody to dance the years into motion,
Even a song to give voice to the blessing.
Let our words be music,
let our thoughts be songs, cast upon
the water like bread for the swans.
Blue is the river whose source is a crystal.
Clear is the lake, where the swan pairs swim,
Pure as the fountain that rises within.
We call the Original Emptiness to witness our act of prayer
And we call on the Great Spirit, the first movement within
Original Emptiness, to be with us here.
We call on the Milky Way our stellar family in the Galaxies
To witness our coming together.
And we call on the Sun and the Moon, the Heavenly Bodies
To witness our prayer.
We call on the Powers of the Four Directions,
The East and the West, the North and the South,
To bless our intentions.
We call on the Elements of Earth and Sky,
Of Fire and Water and Ether to be present with us
Here as we pray together.
We call on the Spirit of all the Two Legged Beings
To be present with us here, the Yellow Races and the Black,
And the White, and the Red Man from America.
We call on the spirit of all the Four Legged Creatures
To be with us here in our prayer, the Elephant and the Mouse
The lowly dog and the Endangered Rhinoceros.
And we call on the Winged Beings, all species of birds,
And their bird songs, and also the Angels and the Bee,
To sing in our hearts this day.
And all creeping things, all lowly beetles and worms,
And even the snakes, we invite you to be with us this day.
The Kingdom of Plants, all Trees and Flowers and Grasses
Be with us in our hearts as we pray.
And the Rock People, and the Living Earth, and the Dust,
And the Space between the dust, and to the tiniest Atom,
And the Emptiness at the Heart of the Atom
We call on you all to be present here with us today.
And to that Great Mystery that is between the Emptiness
At the Beginning and the Emptiness at the Heart of the Atom
We call upon You, Oh Great Mystery, in our common prayer.
May all of us look into our hearts,
Beyond the Words and the Idea,
Beyond the Beliefs and the Ideologies,
May we look into our hearts and be aware
Of the Mystery of our Being.
And May the presence of that Great Mystery
Quiet our minds and our words, for a moment,
And allow us to be here silently together
Honouring that which is at the Source of
Our Being, and of our religions and beliefs.
And may we recognise, Oh Great Spirit,
How much we have in common, and how simple it is,
At the deepest levels, to love one another.
Ameen.
Not past a second cup of tea in the morning light
did the idea reveal: Shabbat, and do nothing.
What kind of nothing shall we do?
Go to the Temple!
Shall we go South to the temple of trees
where the river chatters at the foot of yellow-wood,
As the thoughts of the mind scurry along
within the realms of the inner eye?
Shall we go to the temple at the keyhole
of the canyon where golden sandstone rises in awe?
Northern rays of sun, catching the lily pond,
have flooded our hearts with blessings.
In the West there’s a spot by a low shade tree
where the cattle love to lounge and munch,
Farther from the water but closer to the view
of the morning star rising that the soul longs for.
Above there’s the One, a small cave in the hilltop.
Here we see the high mountains north and south.
Here the spirit soars while the body sits in yoga.
Each deep breath leaps across the hills and the stars.
Alone for the fist time, this is the third day,
the first time in years, fire and a tent, rice and tea.
Baron von Skrikke, and his children, have gone to the
ninetieth birthday of Grandmother Wessels the Erudite.
Can I stand these simple conditions? fire and river,
forest and hilltop, Indian Summer upon us.
God knows the inner man is undecided, undisciplined,
afraid of the path and reluctant to go!!
It was the Temple at the Keyhole Canyon that gave
the Benediction: down on a knee to kiss the stones.
Tall grasses, like fairy dusters, touch me with tingling,
wiping thoughts off my face, there are rainbows everywhere.
Sat. 31, May, 2003
Lower Kouga Valley