Bhutan: a journey to rest more deeply into myself

​I am writing while parts of me still linger in the land of Bhutan.

I am writing while I still remember the part of me that transcends all temporal places, because it is Home, always, straightforwardly, purely, simply, rawly, Home.

There is a transparency that sees everything and that sees nothing.  That is, an eye that does not define what it sees, but that simply sees. 

There is a heart that loves everything and loves nothing.  That is, a heart that does not define what it loves.  Does not judge what it loves. 

There is an openness which cannot be destroyed, not because it is shielded, but because it is utterly raw and utterly unshielded.  It touches and is touched by all things and melts all things in the furnace of Compassion.

There is an innocence which cannot be shattered, not because it avoids experience, but because it embraces experience utterly, feeling the shock and the pain and the pleasure of it pass through like waves in an ocean of Pure Presence.  What shatters are its shields.

There are wings in my heart, there are tears in my eyes, there is a song, a prayer for ALL OF YOU: May you know in your bones that every tiny, awkward, part of you, every fearful, hiding part of you, every jealous, confused, self-sabotaging part of  you….is a JEWEL awaiting the eyes of Love to gaze upon it and see its true beauty, and YOU are the alchemist with the eyes to match.  Because YOU are created in the image of the Whole, and every moment of Love that you have ever experienced from a mother, a father, a lover, a brother, a sister, an animal, a tree, an ocean, the sound of bells or drums or voices or breath, every moment that has cut through the walls in you so you forgot yourself enough to remember yourself, is simply a mirror, a messenger, telling you: Look, Look at who you truly are.  Look, look…at what is possible in the embrace of emptiness:

No veil. 

Naked essence. 

Raw Truth. 

Home.

May all beings be liberated from suffering and the causes of suffering. 

Not by rejecting it but by looking through it to the other side of the veil, which, mirror-like, encases the Samsaric world like the tender hands of a prayer uttered beyond time, a prayer whose breath is re-arranging the temporal plane with fierce compassion and incredible patience, for freedom can never be forced, it can only be invited, and the invitation is descending from the high mountains and spreading across all valleys and pouring like sweet water into all crevasses, taking root in Earth’s deep core, and blossoming like a lotus across all space-time, to welcome us, gently,  Home.