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2019, 7*, air, Arya Lalitavistara, Buddha, chords, crown, dawn, distance, glass, heather, lemon, light, Maitreya, mist, note, olive, rebirth, shade, silence, storm, windows
the air refreshed
and folded by several
degrees as if to storm,
the light became
slightly shaded as if
through olive glass
but remained lemon
in the distance, the
silence dampened
like mist as minute
heather flowers turned
to dawn, and all the
abandoned instruments,
their boxes taut to struts,
their strings resigned
to tonnage, discarded
over couches, before
windows, each creaked
and let a single note that
ne’er had pitched and
held – chords
o’er room and vale;
it was time the
effervescent crown
were passed to the
Regent and the
Bodhisattva take
birth in the world
bevelled up and out of the Arya Lalita Vistara Nama Mahayana Sutra: before the Buddha was born a prince in a principality in India, he was residing in a heavenly realm (with the gods), but his vows and wishes over endless waves of previous lifetimes urged him to one final birth to consummate them all in Enlightenment; the Regent is Maitreya, the next Bodhisattva to take birth in this world and show Enlightenment … in future
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
air wormhole: prose piece 2 from POEMS 1927 by William Carlos Williams
Buddha wormhole: and … // … sound
dawn wormhole: What You Are by Roger McGough
glass wormhole: ‘… and yet I think I am so modest: …’
lemon wormhole: I don’t need to go out / onto the balcony to see behind me / to know what’s going on
light wormhole: St. Erasmus in Bishop Islip’s Chapels, 1796
Maitreya wormhole: Prajnaparamita // Maitreya
mist wormhole: to let be
olive wormhole: coterminalism – there is nothing happens by itself, / 070118
silence wormhole: La Route, Effet d’Hiver, 1872
windows wormhole: Hastings: neither all or nothing
mlewisredford 
This made me realize something:
That the Buddha life time, a wrap up.
So I was feeling…
It’s just as fine to be in the middle of this process, this adventure, this story, this soul, as it is to be fully awake that last life time, when we wrap it all up.
If we weren’t here, now, full of yearning, what would there be to create meaning matter and enlightenment with?
As in, what would the “light” shine on? How do we think we get there?
You gotta experience, fail, want and become, make mistakes, understand, love and dream for it to matter so each lifetime builds on the next.
I’m for stopping to smell all the varieties of flowers in the world then breeding new ones to wiff, then enjoying the world as it is, as it goes, rather than rushing forth to some swift bright, total joy and enlightenment.
This small obscurity is a tiny wonder.
Skipping around your place here might just give me something to also write about.
You bring me a lot of joy.
I’ve been searching for precisely these two things I found here in the last 24.
It’s just nice to be trying to frame something, figure it out, find words or a point of reference, then viola. It’s right here in your blog for me to stumble onto.
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I think what you are saying is that there is great joy (as well as a whole lot of relief) being on your path to enlightenment; the key thing about being on a path is, as you say, to keep to the ‘middle of the process’ – not oblivious on the one hand so that you don’t even realise there is a path to be on and go wandering off over all sorts of crevasses or lost in all sorts of desert, and not Super-Id Religious, taking the result of your path, however you conceive it, and, ‘nothing else will do’, thus being limited by your conception of it, in which case you’d stop travelling on the path and just stand there proclaiming prophecy or divine revelation; in the middle it is, the Middle Way, between self-indulgence and self-denial, between existence and non-existence, between samsara and moksha, between no-path-at-all and one-path-only; actually, for all of the flower-sniffing simplicity of it, treading the middle way path is the most difficult of all – it’s all too easy to either let go and self-indulge or become all rigid, conservative and shut off; the discipline is to make sniffing-the-flower not an end in itself but an opening to a higher/wider meaning/horizon, centripetal rather than centrifugal, you have to keep your nose to the flower and your mind on the path; I wonder if you’ve intuitively known you are on a path and are exploring what that path is and where it is leading by calling yourself ‘Wandering Spirit’ and that being on it doesn’t mean you stop wandering but that your wandering becomes more disciplined (as John Kabat Zinn entitled one of his books “Wherever You Go, There You Are”) – you can’t wander off your path unless you lose your Self, your Spirit, your True Nature; I am honoured you find joy in my blowing-bubbles-through-a-straw (you must show me where to find it) but don’t ever stop, Wandering.
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