jalan raya pengosekan, ubud, bali
my happy hour.
hujan besar hari ini.
intense showers. rainy season soon coming to an end. for now that is. tomorrow we do not know.
and, for now that is, is perhaps the only time we ever have even though the time we mostly live in be the time of, the rains will soon be coming, or the time of, the rains have already gone.
in the turning circle of seasons and years we are rinsed and cleansed by eternal showers whilst we get lost in our beginnings and ends asking ourselves incessantly variations of the same question: why?
ultimately there is no why to things. beings are the beings that they are. we are and everything here is an expression of thusness, of tathata, of it is, of we are.
"die Rose ist ohne Warum.
sie blühet weil sie blühet
there is no why to the rose
she blooms because she blooms -
"turning and turning in the widening gyre- yates."
"in my beginning is my end.....
we must be still and still moving- t.s.eliot”
my time here in bali is also coming to an end. last teaching assignments at yoga barn. or is this just the beginning of my time here as I am preparing to leave?
rain pounding so heavily today you couldn't ignore it's mighty presence, couldn't go about your talk ignoring it's overpowering and magistral voice.
sat in a circle with new found friends, there was no teacher, no students, we kept silent and let the rain do the talking.
rain talk is dharma talk for she who can listen to the tongue of water as it speaks out in different idioms a unique speech that pours over to soak us with the world.
we are born and we die in between two showers.
what we hear is more than the discourse of water falling.
in this downpour, in this falling, we hear the streaming of the eternal and the timeless.
china. ancient times. teacher and student walk side by side on the bank of a rapid river. student: master, how do i enter the way, how do I enter the tao? master: do you hear the sound of the river streaming? student : i do. master: through the sound of the river you can enter the way.
our point of entry to the path, to the tao, to the world, at once traced and washed away by pouring rains and running waters.
rain, parlance of transparency and tracelessness.
we, falling through myriad paths of water revealed and effaced in one single downpour.
whilst looking for the way, here is the way showering us with endless blessings.
soaked in the intimacy of things, it does not rain inside, it does not rain outside; we are the pouring, we are the falling; falling into and out of visible and invisible spaces uttering words of rain.....crystalline....
hujan besar hari ini.