Arid Aria

Today the sun is unencumbered by clouds and the spacious sky is the color of blue flax from horizon to horizon. Winds are barely perceptible but for a few exhales urging sparse foliage into motion for a few quivering moments. It is remarkably quiet out here on the high desert landscape. I stand still and breathe dehydrated air infused with subtle aromas of sage and juniper. Something awakens in me, a sense of the earth calling, singing an aria of vastness—and I am swallowed by the song.

The tune taunts me in this seemingly parched corner of Gaia. The earth and wind dakinis are teasing the separateness out of the thick mat of my human conditioning, leaving only a silent pulse of what is beyond the reach of my grasping mind. No-one survives this song of the desert unless they surrender to her whisper, recognizing it as the wordless sound of a heart seeking solitude. Even the distant roar of a truck followed by a rising cloud of dust cannot disturb the sweet melody.

Amidst this space and enticing song arises an old memory of my lineage masters, especially Dudjom Lingpa. He received all his teachings from the elements in the guise of dakinis singing their wisdom directly to him. I imagine him laughing at all my words, knowing they are the mindless chatter of a befuddled spiritual seeker. Inside his laughter is also a blessing, a kind offering to a child struggling to wake up. He seems to be here now, inviting the arid aria of this moment to sweep away the sickness of my wasted efforts.

Everything has already been accomplished,
and so, having overcome the sickness of effort,
one finds oneself in the naturally self-perfected state
of spontaneous pure presence.                                                        (from the Six Vajra Verses by Garab Dorje)


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