Silence expressed

I find myself sitting down
To write this post

Sometimes the fingers fly
on the keyboard

At other times
They meander
Taking their own time
to form words

Today the hand is poised
over the letters
And the silence comes
Only silence

I don't know how long
I sit this way
With the silence
And the potential for words

After a while
The eyes open
The fingers fly again
And these words appear

Silence takes shape
Silence takes form
Silence wears a mask
Of meaning

It is all silence
Beckoning us back home
to silence
through noise

How foolish!

When I wish to be free of mind
How foolish I am being

When have I been free of mind?
Yesterday says the mind
Yesterday in meditation
I was free of mind

But the truth is
That today rolled around
And mind appeared again
As it always does

Something shifts
And mind is mostly quiet here
But here is there
And mind is active there

So how foolish of me
To seek my rest
In quiet mind
Here or there

The only rest
Is alongside mind
Inside it even
Right in its sweet lap

This is real freedom
So untouched
By mind's noise
And by mind's silence

That simple

What will this moment bring?
This moment arrives
And I find out

It is that simple.

What sees I?

A question pops up:

I am this human expression - is it true?

I look into the mirror. I see this familiar face. I see the corners of the mouth turn up.

And I am deeply conscious of this that is looking - looking at this face and its reflection. It is looking at the eyes looking at the eyes. How strange.

I am this human expression - is it true?

This human expression is ever-changing. This body-mind is never the same from one year to the next, from one week to the next, from one day to the next, even from one moment to the next. One moment I am not smiling, then in the next moment I am! One moment my tooth is attached to the gum and in the next moment it comes unattached. One moment I am not in pain and then in the next moment, the pain starts.

One moment I am not conceived, and in the next moment I am. One moment I am not dead and in the next moment ....

This human expression is ever-changing.

Yet something always call itself I. What is it that holds to calling itself I? What is I?

What is I?

The body moves. The legs start up and walk the body into the kitchen. The hands move and reach out for this and that. A cup of tea is ready. The cup is lifted to the mouth. The tea is tasted. The eyes close briefly in appreciation. The legs walk this back here, with cup of tea in hand.

Action is happening. The heart is beating. The lungs are breathing. The bird is flying. The tree is gently waving.

Where am I in all this?

I am here - in this body-mind - is it true?

I look into the mirror again. I see the wall behind, a bottle, a candle-holder. Am I there, in those?

I touch the space separating this here from that there. The space is filled with thoughts. They are quite wispy. They just float about. It is very clearly seen that if attachment occurs to any of them, and if they are believed, - even a tiny bit, then wham - the wispy thoughts become a sticky quagmire, sucking more and more identity into them. And with that attachment, a vast distance develops between this I here and everything else. The separate I is birthed from the attachment to thought.

Something sees all this very calmly, as though in complete empathy and understanding. What is it that sees the I being born? What is it that sees the I live? What is it that sees the I die?

What sees I?