When I let go of what I know, what’s left?

If I set off without a compass, will I be led?

An inner urge too strong to overlook insists that I go forward.

I stumble, fall, get up and start again.

Longing lights the path like a lantern.

The mountaintop looks so far away that I stop to rest, and in the quiet I realize that practice isn’t about getting anywhere,

changing anything,

making something happen

or slowing what’s in motion..

Union can’t be forced, won’t be won by fighting.

It alights like a moth on a dandelion or swallowed whole like Jonah’s whale.

All it takes is receiving what is here right now, being intimate with all that is, and knowing that the act of offering what i really am will never be refused.

On the road again today.

Wish me safe travel. please.

Ommmmmmmmmmmmm.