Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Swallowed Whole

When I let go of what I
know, what's left? If I
set off without a compass,
will I be led? An inner urge
too strong to overlook insists
that I go forward. I stumble,
fall, get up and start again.
Longing lights the path like
a lantern. The mountaintop
looks so far away that I
stop to rest, and in the quiet
I realize that practice isn't
about getting anywhere
changing anything, making
something happen or slowing
what's in motion. Union
can't be forced, won't be won
by fighting. It alights like a
moth on a dandelion or swallows
me whole like Jonah's whale.
All it takes is receiving what
is here right now, being intimate
with all that is, and knowing that
the act of offering what I really
am will never be refused.

One Soul: More poems from the heart of yoga, Danna Faulds, pg 45

No comments:

Post a Comment