It was frightening at first,
Not seeing eye-to-eye,
With the Great Traditions.
Agreeing with the essential experiential,
But “interpreting” differently,
In that…
I interpreted not at all.
Not interpreting our experience,
What is left to us,
But Experience alone.
Before the voice within utters a word,
Or the inner eye imagines a form,
For the Formless and Ineffable.
While the Great Traditions “know”,
What, why, and how,
I know nothing of anything…
Except this Experience of Being.
What I call Bliss is there.
But is it what is meant by Ananda?
Everyone speaks differently of it.
There is no longer the felt sense of “I”.
But is that what is meant by moksha?
Everyone speaks differently of it.
This teaching says this,
That teaching says that,
And I am left wondering…
Not that it really matters.
For I do not need “knowledge”,
Or “understanding”,
To live in the Embrace…
Of this Unfathomable Mystery.
No matter what befalls me,
Whatever weather rages through the Sky,
Of conditionality and circumstance…
I am Held, Always.
The Beloved dwells in my Heart,
And holds me… from Within,
And I rest in Fullness and Completion…
Whatever one might call that.
