A Teacher, A Friend


The notion of “spiritual teacher”
Has become so corrupted, so shat upon
By energy-imbued psychopaths
And blissless advaitans.


May you find a Teacher, a Friend,
Who has died into Formless Pure Being,
Emerged, Illumined, with the Fragrance of The Beloved,
And through Surrender, Liberated
From the terrible bondage of self-identity.

Union,
Benediction,
Surrender.

But above all else, a Friend Liberated,
From the felt sense of embodied form,
The felt sense of embodied selfhood.
This, above all else.

Otherwise,
You are dealing with a “person”,
Moved by desire and fear.
With agenda, taking rather than Giving.

Take no one's word,
That they are Liberated,
But watch their words and actions,
In moments when they are being “themselves”.

Above all, look for Humility,
Selflessness,
Compassion,
And Loving Kindness.

For these are born,
Of effortless abidance,
In and as,
Fullness and Completion.

Existence·Consciousness·Bliss.

If your Friend is Illumined, but not Liberated,
Take care.
For the world is full of powerful, eloquent,
Beautifully embodied Selves,
Imbued with spiritual energy.

If your Friend is Liberated, but not Illumined,
Learn what you can from their words,
For words can, in the right Heart,
Point the way to your Heart's Desire.

But better still,
May you find a Teacher, a Friend,
Liberated, Illumined,
And moving Humbly in Endless Enlightening.

So rare.

Not one elevated, who sits “in front of”,
Seen distantly, through a crowd,
But a Friend who sits “across from”.
A fellow Lover of The Beloved, with whom
Through intimate spiritual relationship,
The ember in your Heart ignites.

For this is the Ancient Way.

Not simply one who “talks”,
Who tells you in words and concepts,
That everything is now,
Has always been,
And will forever be
Perfect.

Who tells you in words and concepts,
That you are now,
Have always been,
And will forever be,
“Enlightened”.

But a Friend Liberated from self-identity,
Through whose Form,
The bliss of The Beloved,
Shines spontaneously and effortlessly,
And can be Felt, through a Mystical Alchemy,
Beyond all “understanding”…

In your own direct Experience.

Who emanates, wordlessly,
That which cannot be spoken of,
Which is “Heard” in your Heart,
In your Direct Experience,
Through Love.

Whose words are saturated with Blessing,
Flowing like a river from the Ocean of Bliss,
Through a Liberated form,
Seeking nothing from you,
Only offering,
Love.

A Mystical Love,
Not a fruitless glamour,
Which emanates even from those,
Bound, still, in self-identity,
Moving through desire and fear.

But rather, the Blissful Radiance,
Of Sat·Chit·Ananda
The Fragrance of The Beloved,
The Ecstasy of the Self within your self,
The Rapture of your own Pure Being.

Not energetic titillation,
That dazzles briefly,
Watering your mouth,
Then leaving you starving.

But the Presence of The Beloved, Shining,
Which Blesses your Heart,
And Transmutes you,
Immediately, and Forever,
Dissolving “you” in the Ocean of Bliss.

Not one who tells you there is nothing to be done.
For there is so much to be done,
In the way of Longing,
In Attention's inward turning,
And Heartfelt relationship,
With a form through which,
Formlessness shines.

Such “doing” arises effortlessly,
Through Love,
Not of the Teacher's form,
Though gratitude flows.
But rather…

Love of Love's Own Innate Shimmering,
Here… in your own Heart,
The true Teacher,
The true Guru,
The true Murshid.