The one who meditates is like a steward

The one who meditates is like
a steward at the entrance to the shrine room.

The steward stays at his post while people come in and out;
his job is to stay at the door and be present;
crowds may come in, and, later on, crowds may go out,
but he has to avoid joining them in going in or out,
if he wants to remain at his post.

The one who meditates is like
a steward who is always leaving his post.

The people who come in and out of the shrine room
are very interesting, and include old friends;
the steward finds himself carried along in the crowd;
he may be sitting in the dining room enjoying lunch,
when he wakes up to his neglect, and hurries back.

The one who meditates is like
a steward who is privileged to watch over the shrine room.

At quiet times, when all the people have gone,
he can bask in the softness of emptiness;
in the silence he can hear the faint echoes of the teachings;
the benign wisdom of the ancestors suffuses the space;
in the quiet, that which is most precious is available to him.

The one who meditates is like
a steward who has found liberation at his post.

This entry was posted in bramble tangle collection, poems on meditation. Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.