Saturday, June 16, 2007

NO GAP

No gap between the tree and the word that knows it like lightning, like a bird. No interval between the cloud and the name of the cloud. No abyss between the universe and the listener watering his flowering inferometers with a sea of waves. The things of the world, these amazing myriad forms and faces and the transformations between them, are the true ground and grammar of our knowing, the infinite inflections of the jewel of our awareness that shines by its own light. You are the lantern, you are the eclipse of your own dreams, the suchness of yourself as you are that keeps breaking through the pimped out mirror like an astronomic catastrophe, so all that is left is the ownerless world, and a universe of your own. Next time you blunder into the eye of your own hurricane rose like a heavy bee, take a closer look. Look at the elegance and eloquence of evolution engendered out of the random, the aeonic orders of the stars. Look how law flows like a bloodstream out of chaos and returns like a leech to bleed it. The cornerstone of everything is empty, without definition, like a passionate love affair. Take off the straitjacket of what you think you know, that weave of delusions as stable as the moon, and put on the cleaner garment of your doubt, and not knowing why or where, understand the two legs you’re standing on are the keys to the cage, and open it like an eyelid and feel your own vastness in the freedom before you. Not random, not chaos, not order, not law, no it, no you, no seer or seen, add yourself like a lost dimension to everything that is and write every word whether in space or on paper as if it were your name flowing like a leaf on the mindstream, the alpha and the omega of this prime time alphabet of maggots and stars that says you to you as if you could hear the roaring lion of the distant sea waking in your own ear. Show me the bacterium that isn’t the cradle of a dragon. Show me a night that dreads its own stars. Or a wind that is lost without a map. Every life you have ever lived tastes of this life now.

PATRICK WHITE

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