Mother Lode

Mother Lode

Mother Lode

shining brightly

beyond space and time.

A baby cries incessantly:

“Let me out.

Let me out.”

Compassionate Mother

releases the jīva.

I custom-order my cap and gown.

I custom-order my salad,

with no dressing.

I build a stone wall

within the heart.

I separate myself

from the Mother.

I create my own imaginary world.

I forget the original building blocks:

Sat-Chit-Ānanda.

I receive a subtle body

of seventeen things.

I become

the body,

the mind,

the résumé,

the house,

the car,

the job,

the achievement.

I go deep

into academentia.

I forget

I am Free,

Timeless,

Eternal.

Instead,

I constantly explore

for more FTE.

I project.

I identify with the reflection.

I identify with the reflecting medium.

I mix things up.

I create confusion.

I add color to the painting.

I add complaints.

I superimpose limitations

upon the limitless.

Then comes

the dawn of knowledge.

I retract the projection.

I drop the identification.

I let go of the desires.

And suddenly,

I don't see

the silly baby anymore.

I look across

the California landscape:

the mountains,

the valley,

the beaches,

the red woods,

the bodies,

the minds,

the countless names and forms.

One Mother.

One light.

One reality.

Am I the Mother Lode

or the silly child?

Am I the source of fire

or the tiny spark?

I search for the distance

between Mother and child,

only to discover

there was never a distance.

I am not apart from the Mother.

I am non-separate from the Mother.