[Thespiritexpress] poem read at Mastery

[Riantee Rand]

> 
> Two Thrushes told me:
>  
> On my dozing pillow the Swainson thrush’s warbling
> reaches me from the edge of the forest:
> 
> “Wake up, you have slept long enough,
> open your eyes, step out of the house
> don’t let the ceiling cut you off from the sky,
> hear my song spreading the word
> that nothing is wrong with the world,
> that it is even okay when it’s not okay,”
> I hear the wise bird say as all my senses awaken
> from the dreamer’s dream.
>  
> My open window allows
> the scent of wild azalea
> to intone with the warbling:
> “You don’t have to fix anything, anyone,
> not even yourself,
> for there can be no mistake in all of creation.
> The world has solidified your attention,
> but nothing ‘out there’ has density,
> don’t fall for the illusion of gravity.”
>  
> From far far away the Hermit thrush responds,
> sending ripples of pleasure throughout my waking body:
> “There is only the movement of eternal breath
> breathing everything in and out of form.
> What you believe you see
> is just another dimension of this formless reality,
> this physical web of relationships crossing and uncrossing,
> constantly exchanging energy.
>  
> When you fell into sleep everything crystallized,
> your first attention became fixated in the thinking mind.
> Now you have learned to move out of thought
> to incubate the second attention,
> but images replaced opinions
> and
> absorbed in pictures
> you could not access your third attention.
>  
> Release the unresolved sufferings held in the body,
> unravel the training that lured you into sleep
> from your very beginning,
> light the sacred fire of the present,
> bring the past to the moment,
> use nostalgia as an opportunity to revisit it
> with a fondness for your wise purity
> and innocent awareness,
> start the re-parenting that revises what no longer serves you,
> for you are the maker of your own experience.
>  
> Let consciousness be laughter
> that tumbles down
> the imagined walls of separation,
> allow bird songs to penetrate
> the points of entry in your body,
> and together
> we will hum the world into creation.”
>  
> Thus spoke the thrushes.

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