feel around emptiness

feel around emptiness
note from self

she closes her eyes
feels around in there
inside, sensing for edges
borders or confines
—finds none
it’s lively, wide open
empty and clear
brilliant, awake
vast and unending
and plainly not personal
she opens her lids
sees ten-trillion things
not now not yet but soon
snaps her eyes shut
to return to that calm
the big field of knowing

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

our mother tongue

Last evening before dinner, I sat in a common area and spoke with a man attending his first retreat with Rupert Spira. During an abrupt transition in this retreatant’s life, he found a YouTube clip of  Rupert teaching. He said, “I didn’t understand all of what Rupert spoke about that first time I listened to him, but I did recognize it as my mother tongue.”

Yes! Tears filled my eyes.

If you, like I, explored countless pathways and discovered that none of them have fulfilled what your heart yearns for, when you are introduced to this understanding something may flutter in–or batter–your chest: an apprehending, a knowing, an avowal even, that you have come home. This is the beginning of a lifelong integration.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2017
image credit: By Mokkie – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0