Bringing Home the Bacon


Imagine living where the birds and bees are in excellent moods,
sharing pleasant conversations amongst the various species
of themselves in the glad and glorious atmosphere
of a majestic mountain morning;
where certain flimsy but tenacious assumptions
of a permanently separate, individualized identity
dissolve in the sudden hush of euphoric recognition –
the engaging play of infinite consciousness expressing itself
in the humorously ironic form of passing cloud thoughts
such as, “I am this or I am that, or both, or actually neither”,
then immediately releasing them back into the pristine air
of its own enormous skyhood playground
for the sake of the game itself;
where nothing is contrived or named, no ascending path
to tread, no elsewhere place where everything is magically
transmuted into some lean and lawful facsimile of itself,
nothing more or less astonishing than this:
Mind alone, dreaming up a perpetually expanding fantasy
of space and time between one big bang and the next —
the undeniable transiency of all compounded appearances
proof enough of their and our intrinsic unreality!
Here is how it goes:
happily arriving home from the market,
we tote the groceries in and then put them away.
Amos, our black Lab retriever
who stayed behind with brimming eyes,
is now so excited to see us that there is no before nor after
to his tail wagging, effortlessly transmitting the essential happiness,
every visible and invisible sphere of being unified in such joy,
joy beyond their comprehension, beyond even our own!
We’re home!
Smiling and laughing in a conspiracy of interspecies delight,
we cannot help but vibrate to his canine ecstasy, for we are not
other than that in our own existential wagging –
one primordial tail, swinging back and forth through space,
uniting far-flung galaxies in one waggy motion, just happy
for the happiness of union itself, not as an event yet to come,
not as memory, not as something to hope for in a flush of distress,
just this wonder itself, this life indescribable, the essence of what is.
Amos watches now as we stack the boxes, bottles, bags, and cans,
while thoroughly enjoying a tasty chewy bacon snack,
in love beyond our saying.
My Beloved intuits where everything goes,
in an oracular kind of fashion.
Somehow we share the same non-knowledge, and that synchronicity
of the union of transparent emptiness and clarified cognizance
always amazes and pleases us with its perfect suchness.
It doesn’t take much – what’s not amazing about just being?
We have earnestly prepared our whole life for just this moment,
and so everything falls naturally into place without concern,
all watched over by Amos’ loving regard.
Now everybody is suddenly wondering,
what shall we have for lunch?

About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s