“…my heart is now a busted glass bead jar
spilling wildly across the floor....”
How delightful to hear this music:
a sparkling cascade of colorful glass beads
Spilling – allowing "self" to
spill out and disperse.
In the spilling, transformation.
Self appears from the background
into the foreground.
Little self disperses,
and the Self emerges -
its form simply energy, light, love,
and the glittering dance of glass beads
Where can this self be found now?
It is strewn across the universe.
And what are we?
The flow. The Flowing.
We are the flowing.
There is no permanent self here;
we have only thought there was.
Who we are is only the naked nameless
in the form steam rising from a cup of tea,
or of glass beads
Embracing this emptiness,
this no-thing, this vibrancy
the consciousness of no-thing,
is living in the gap.
So we rejoice, delighted,
smiling at the sound,
the spilling music of little glass beads
Dancing of Chris, Meredith and Aki