Surfing the Edge
By Michael Erlewine
I try to stay up to date at least with my own changes, but lately it’s a bit like a kaleidoscope, especially with the world situations directing the show. What does that even mean anymore?
Perhaps I am at or nearing a personal inflection point. Some of the past is drying up and I have not reached the phoenix point where I arise from the ashes of the present moment. Turning increasingly inward is not the same as turning outward, at least until they meet in non-duality and it’s all within.
The present moment still seems the same, with the flood gates from the future open for all to peer in. I tire from looking through. There is no age in the well of the present. It’s me that holds both age and hourglass.
What else can I give but my attention, and I tire from doing that.
Here is a quote from the journals of poet Gerard Manley Hopkins;
“Note on water coming through a lock.
“There are openings near the bottom of the gate (which allow the water to pass through at all times, I suppose). Suppose three, as there often are.
“The water strikes through these with great force and extends itself into three fans. The direction of the water is a little oblique from the horizontal, but the great force with which it runs keeps it almost uncurved except at the edges.
“The end of these fans is not seen for they strike them under a mass of yellowish boiling foam which runs down between the fans, and meeting covers the whole space of the lock entrance. Being heaped up in globes and bosses and round masses the fans disappear under it.
“This turbid mass smoothes itself as the distance increases from the lock. But the current is strong and if the basin into which it runs has curving banks it strikes them and the confusion of the already folded and doubled lines of foam is worse confounded.”
[Midjourney graphic prompted by me.]
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As Bodhicitta is so precious,
May those without it now create it,
May those who have it not destroy it,
And may it ever grow and flourish.