The Way is the ever-changing
Held in the Embrace of the changeless.
Everything seen is the changing
As the breeze moves the leaves
So the leaves evoke the breeze.
Thus each moment,
Moves the Way here and there.
Even thought manifests as
turbulence … waves within the Way.
The Way is the Way
Its movement, its passage
is a consequence of only itself.
Yet the Way never changes
This paradox is the unfathomable mystery of the Real.
All is held in potential within the Way
Thus fear and its countless manifestations are
as much an expression of the Way as anything else.
The Way is boundless love
in that it can and will express anything and everything.
If we resist the Way
We create resistance.
Could it be simpler?
That which resists the way is the self itself
The self contained in thought is the child of thought.
Yet the self is also as much the Way as
Anything else in this vast universe.
Each thought possesses the sound of our
fingernails holding desperately onto the shifting ledge of
But is existence precarious?
Does it truly shift?
It is not here always and everywhere?
Does it not hold us
in this very moment
together and boundless and bounded?
Yet in the face of what is real
We hold ever tighter
Believing that were we to let go we might disappear.
If we listen very carefully
The Way asks only one question,
Will you trust me?
Our appearance appears in both trust and its absence.
In contrast to our impatience,
The Way is nothing but patience.
The Way is eternal – timeless