If this Grace is real, it will Bless us,
Even if we call it… Bob,
And haven't a clue what it is,
Or what it all means.

I don't know what this is, truly…
This Warmth in the Heart,
This Bliss bubbling up from the wellspring of Being,
This Radiance that Heals and Blesses,
And intoxicates myself… and others.

Confused by the chaos of “spirituality”,
The vast and varied descriptions of “Reality” and “Truth”,
The stories of who, what, when, where, why, and how,
The do's and don'ts, all stated with such certitude and authority,
I find the mind simply… Stopped.

I sit, breathing Bliss, unable to feel “myself” anymore.
But have no “knowledge” about the nature of this Experience,
No description born of this tradition or that,
No cosmology or theology at all, to wrap it in,
I have only…

This Experience.

And so, at one point, I said to a Friend,
“I really shouldn't be meditating with you.
Or in any way behaving as a ‘Murshid’ or Guide.
For unlike all who speak with certitude and authority,
I have no ‘idea’ what any of this is, or what it means.”

“No concepts, theories, or conjecture,
To describe the indescribable.
No constructs of logic or reason,
To create a village of understanding, belief, or faith,
In this Wilderness of the Great Mystery.

I have only… this Experience of Being.”

My Friend replied…

“And that is the Treasure you can't help sharing.
Don't cringe at the word ‘teacher’,
Or the ways in which others teach;
Even those ways born of ancient lineage,
Held in respect and reverance.”

“For when the glories of spanda,
The dance of Shiva and Shakti,
Stream out of your sparkling eyes,
Your delighted face, your every gesture,
The word ‘teacher’ loses all meaning…”

“And teaching gushes forth to nourish everything in its path.”

“An Experience whose Beauty is beyond expression,
Like standing in a shower of Blessings,
Like soaking in a pool of Grace,
Like sunbathing in Healing Light,
Beyond all imagination… a ‘Good’ thing."

“So come now… let's be simple-minded, you and I,
And allow the realization of the Heart's Desire,
And the enjoyment of Ineffable Sublimity,
Inherent in the Vanishing of the enjoyer,
As reason enough to Dissolve together in Bliss.”

“Why do you trouble yourself,” he said,
“With why and wherefore,
With thoughts of what should be said or done…
Or not said or done,
When only this Presence is required?”

“Put 'knowledge' aside,
And all that cosmic hoo-hah that troubles you so.”

“If this Grace is real,
It will Bless us,
Even if we call it… Bob,
And haven't a clue what it is,
Or what it means.”

“Is it not more important,
To have this Experience,
Than to understand anything at all,
Or be able to speak in any way,
‘About’ it?”

My Friend was right,
And we continued in our Enjoyment,
And in time he became,
Effortlessly, always…
As he put it, so irreverantly…

“Bobbed out”.