"Love tells me I am everything; wisdom tells me I am nothing; In between the two, my life flows."

Poem

The Flute

I want to write about glimpsing into an expanded intimacy, not simply with family and friends and favorite foods, but with life’s workings in all their funk and glory. I call it intimacy because it is as homely as it is lovely, and mundane as it is extraordinary. It is joy and emptiness, coming together as the soulful resonance of our humming, buzzing wonderment.

The taste of this intimacy is a kind of satori that is known to all of us in our daily lives – through hair cuts and Saturday mornings and walks with lovers, we stumble, sweetly, into this grateful nothingness where we feel at home in our transience.

Through judgment and triumph, trial and folly, its weaving, blissful song persists. Through effort and surrender, shame and forgetting, lust and tending, its reasoning includes and transcends, spirals and spreads, blossoms and resists in a perfect kaleidoscope of breath and tone and heart beat.

The reed of the flute which begins at the base of the sternum, concealed half an inch back and somewhat elusive, seeks the lips of the seeker like a secret hymn. From there, its music rises like incense and intoxicates the mind until devotion & discernment meet.

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