Calm Orange, Bright Yellow Stuff
(Borough Green to Seven Oaks, 28 Sept 2001)
Today I start off floating in the pool of Witnessing
Sinking below the surface of Time
And walking invincible into Victoria Station
All the to-ing and fro-ing of people cannot disturb this deep pool
Stillness behind the movement, whether I close my eyes or open them
It looks the same
Silence engulfing me
Breath-taking luminosity of this universe
Sitting eating egg sandwiches in a churchyard somewhere
Glancing at yellow leaves and geometric plant-shapes that so quietly honour LIFE
Meanwhile a calm orange jacket with tender-blue trim
Is calling softly
It belongs to Rika, who enunciates with clear finality outside the church:
'I just want to WALK, not do all that other stuff..'
And I say 'Stuff? Is that all you can say about writing and drawing?'
'Yes.'
And I look into her big Pixie-face eyes
But there is no argument
No words speak louder for the rest of this day
Than that singing orange jacket.
Knowle Park.
A year has passed since that innocent time
I was last in this spot with broken trees
Josefine helped me do a handstand..
Today there's been a parting of the ways
A democratic altercation between
The Silent Writers
And the Talkers.
The owner of the Singing Orange Jacket protested
'But these are the best seats!' but the rest of them agreed to go-
Leaving us in this silent clearing.
As the Talkers marched away I said 'Hey- where and when are we going to meet later?'
And one Vocally Strident guy said
'There's no way I'm gonna commit myself,
to being anywhere at any given time- just because you want us to shut up!
'I mean no disrespect intended- but you can just get on with your meditation, ok?'
'Cool'
And Rika laughed. And they became specks-
dissolving into the distant green.
Today, any sound, form or colour can be drawn into the Vastness
And be absorbed by Consciousness
Birds singing, a plane overhead, droning into Nothing
For some people it looks so easy to be somebody
For me it seems
Dissolution is the only solution
Broken sticks in the tufty grass
All pointing different ways
A black shiny beetle crawls around my backpack.