Today 10 July 1925 (was it?) Meher Baba began his silence
(Meher Baba images in this post are copyright (c) Sufism Reoriented 2023)
For I whom He touches, am silence too, the Ringing Presence and Beauty.
I was told once, “the face is the front of the brain”. Look into the river! How beautiful the brain is then – honour and do not close nor obstruct it.
I am a portraitist. Here is my fascination, here I am life-long drawing “the front of the brain”, over and over and over! I found this old snap, taken at Hartland on the North Devon coast in about 1960. I posed proudly for it because I had been swimming in tidal pools, running and glimmering over the rocks – but I wasn’t happy with the photo. Now I am! It is ageless – the soul’s immortal view on life at about age eleven in this lifetime, unbroken the sea. Through it come the faces of my father and my mother and their genetic lineages … through it comes the subtle-body’s dimensional enquiry and the populations she has been and is to be.
My body’s veins and vessels of silence … the exquisite silence for which every feature in the universe is a fluid and unfolding facial front, like the clouds.
As I “age” and this lifetime begins to stiffen and ache, I notice and am more sensitive to my physical weathers and sore tendons. That means more aware. In youth I took it all for granted and didn’t notice, I was distracted with the dramas. Precious moments come now, a few each day, to flow and stride out joyously. In the edgeless window is a childhood scent of red geranium leaves and with the loosening of heart, a capacity to see what “you” discover … the mystery of your continent, a flow of life and love and nonsense and memories.
It unwinds. Unwinding can be subjectively painful in any area where the source of pain is ignored. Sit by the source before the water rushes over the brink into veined Karmas and dramas. Go slow and elegant with the feast. Why do I keep forgetting? – the Beloved One teases and receives me everywhere I eagerly flow – his arms around me.
Balance is a constant sliding-rule. Reaching that place near source again … it’s by the stream just before the swift current rushes over the waterfall; perched on a rock and watching the flowing threads. Pause a moment …
The intention not to rush with such and such a blind binding emotive thread enticing as it is, takes long practice and “spiritual muscle”. I was able gradually to let go of much of my gossip column. Indignation and offence are short-lived. They spike and agonise, but I cannot hold grudges. More water flows ever from the Mountain’s heart. It scours the banks higher up so clays and sediments descend through me. They hurt and then dissolve. Solve, coagula!
Mind and body tango thus. Silent is the fall and the soft golden colour of russet stones in the deep, and the flash of fishes.
Here’s Pete Townshend this morning singing the “Parvadigar”
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My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom. See also Aquariel and Gene Keys Diary.
All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012-2023, except where otherwise stated. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/
My artwork of Meher Baba and his companions is copyright (c) Sufism Reoriented.