Renunciation

Sitting on the edge of Renunciation -

I offer up to the lineage that which I hold most dear. Big chunks of meat are torn from my body. I'm lying spent on the African savanna being eaten by lions.

Balancing on the fence of Renunciation -
 
I totter and sway, back and forth. 

The quicksand of Samsara is on one side. It haunts my meditation, desperately longing to form, materialize, emerge, arrive, exist, and endure. But Samsara's longing is futile; impermanence is the law; emptiness is the law.

On the other side? The present moment is dizzy, vivid and pregnant with insight. An anti-Pandora's box. Disorienting like being trapped in a tumble dryer. I don't belong here. Must I rip Samsara out by it's roots?

Renunciation accomplished? - 

Seeking Shamatha, I squint my eyes just like a million Buddha statues. I float in a dream, laughing at ignorance. A flower grows. I pick a blossom and a second blossom unfolds to take it's place. The mind NEVER tires of spinning fabulous tales. 


2/9/25