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<\/a>Photo: ‘Nested In Nothing’ by kytalpa – Pixabay
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\nReading Ken\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s poem seemed to bring me to an open point\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 Something like what this quote suggests\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6<\/p>\n
\nRelaxing in the multidimensionality of thoughts, at home with transitional construction, we can join in the unobstructed freedom of the zeroless. Not bound to affirm content or to establish structure, not burdened by our images of how things are and how we must act, we awaken to the silent tracings of a vast knowledge. In this DIFFERENTLY DIMENSIONED knowledge, the characteristically human issues of meaning, significance, and fulfillment appear in a new light.<\/em><\/p>\n
We discover this knowledge by relaxing into it, letting go of our perpetual concern that we are somehow at fault or at risk. The feeling is liberating, like warm sunlight after a fierce winter storm. At home in a zeroless space abiding, we recognize that we have the power to shape the universe instead of simply inhabiting it, to become the architects of a knowledge that does not depend on our constructs or determine our reactions.<\/em>
\n\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6.\u00e2\u20ac\u2122Dimensions of Time and Space,\u00e2\u20ac\u2122 by Tarthang Tulku, p.65-6<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\nPLAYTIME
\n by Ken McKeon<\/p>\nHey, a long gone spell\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s been cast away,
\n Witch works kicked over the moon,
\n No curses anywhere,
\n No more unjust blame,
\n Secret doubts,
\nHarborings of perfection, well genuflected flat out revenge,
\n What will I ever do with all my spare time?
\n I think I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll puddle up my mind with Spring,
\n I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll bower the sunlight with flowers,
\n All the new born leaves, the new arrivals
\n Of a god\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s love for a super richly variegated life,
\n Good grief, marmalade,
\n Who could ever stand such a true release?
\n I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think I could,<\/p>\nI\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m much more given to lurking behind
\n the false masks of my desires,
\nAll my get along ways signify only a reluctance of my soul,
\n That fearful feathery float of need
\n That\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s cornered somewhere in my mind,
\n It knows not what it is,
\n It appears to be such a weighty thing,
\n But in actuality it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not,<\/p>\nActuality, that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the land it longs for but never finds,
\n The marble truth, the golden key,
\n The unknown gemstone of an all perfection birth,
\n There\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s no such thing,
\n No final core, first go, sure path,
\n Good Grief,
\n And yet still springtime booms on in,
\n Tubas and cornets, piccolos and drums,
\n What a big raw sound they make!
\n Not a peep, never heard,
\nNested in nothing,
\n Sunshine,
\n No true sun at all,
\n And yet all this light…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Reading Ken\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s poem seemed to bring me to an open point\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 Something like what this quote suggests\u00e2\u20ac\u00a6 Relaxing in the multidimensionality of thoughts, at home with transitional construction, we can join in the unobstructed freedom of the zeroless. Not bound … Continue reading