Winter Solstice 2001
On December 21st of 2001 I awoke from my long sleepwalking spiritual slumber (read my His•Story). Sleep still filled my eyes, and it would take a couple of years for them to open fully and stop fluttering. All on that winter day I was made aware of Ablad Zham. Whatever it was, it offered only vague clues as to what it was and what it wanted, such as this poem:
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Ablad Zham is everywhere. Ablad Zham is noplace. All roads lead to Ablad Zham. None reach it. All doors promise riches. None deliver. Save One. Ablad Zham is riches. Find the door to Ablad Zham. |
I was given a few other enigmatic “clues.” Here's one:
In the year 643ZA they left the protection of the bright light vessels and ventured into the world of wind.
Really useful, huh? My sentiments exactly. Here's another:
I have travelled to distant lands in search of the fabled Ablad Zham. On the shores of Lake Illyad I came upon Seekers questing the source of the Salty Seas (of which Lake Illyad is the last in sequence, and hence the saltiest). Dressed in the pommegranate robes that so uniquely identify those of the Seat of the Seeker, I saw in the shimmering light the dialogue of Princes etched in the sand. But before I could listen to the tale, the second of them turned and draped his hallowed head piece over the shifting sands. The Voices of the Princes departed. And I was left alone, only the sound of water echoing in the pools of my mind.
And a koan, heartily reminiscent of a Zen Koan, yet clearly suggesting that I NOT look to Zen or the Tao.
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The Ablad Zham that can be seen is not the Zham you seek. The Ablad Zham that can be heard is not the Ablad you need. The Ablad Zham that is discussed is not the Ablad Zham. |
Though there would be three marks I could look for to regognize the door.
I know not to take this literally.
January 3rd, 2002
There are pores in this world
in through which seep currents
of curiosity, oddly saddled
question which beg
with outstretched arms
scarred and dirty
for specious answers
that only disenlightened souls
have the presence of mind
to disregard the knowledge that
could be offered as morsels of
food to satesy the acheing craving
to know. But what good is this
knowing if in finding answers the
curiosity scuddles the ship and leaves
our minds marooned while the questions
of earlier times slip through the
cracks in the world and again
escape our grasp.
January 8th, 2002
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You can go or you can stay but in either case the dinner dishes still need washing |
February 2002
