‘The path is to empty ourselves of false divinity, to deny ourselves, to give up being the centre of the world, to discern that all points in the world are equally centres.’ Simone Weil quoted in S G Reynolds Living within the mind of Christ, p206
And so with this tiredness comes fuzzy thought, aching eye sockets and another urge to close in on myself forever. The day was perfectly mellow, three counselling sessions; recovery from depression, living with chronic conditions and Aspergic anxiety, all held within the context of loving relationship suspended in a cool, quiet and highly polished room overlooking a spectacular garden and light grey lake once owned by an importantly busy 17th century general practitioner.
And now, after a night of fitful spare bed room sleep, I am too tired for speech, I can only immerse in the silent scratch of you, my most fountainous, most forgivingly favourite pad and pen………….
before each word
still these chattering noises.
how can these bedding down of desires still circulate
however much I meditate?
how can this resistance to wrest thoughts into Nothingness
be so beyond this mortal’s reach?
where are the rest of these roads to self-forgiveness
this richness to silence I so often seek?
this portal-less absence
these city curbs to this course over thinking
and throwing of verbs into the gutter all
searching for answers
to co-here and now to be
truly within a This-ness
fully beyond this heart and flesh,this body
this dirt ridden spleen of regret.
to coalesce, yes, to immerse I guess
in Breaths own breathing
in the orange and yellowings and driftings of
green as this vessel of vessels
these blood-lit pores, wait for
for wholeness to appear within the weightless of time.
for mists to swirl and fulfil in-between
flesh full narrations and this body most slain
to refresh into chanting enchantments again
to yearn for the Deepest of Breath.
‘do your breathing most breathing most breathing most best’
oh oh yes,
of course, off course I am surrounded again
succumbed once more to this thinking most brain.
soothe these aching taught abs
freed from these needs for solution
You distanced dream valley
with softening tones
whisper Loves balm
to these hum-drumming drums
born of a presence that never quite comes.
‘The action of grace in our hearts is silent and secret.’ Simone Weil Waiting on God page. 7