The One-Pointed Arrow


The incessant chatter in my head

Kick it into touch.

Noise, words, thoughts, rolling round and around and around and utterly, superbly missing the point.

Like some crazy whirling dervish around and around the centre of life, I miss and miss the point, miss the point, like a ball bearing in a tin, spun round and round, flung out

Over and Over.

Round and round – help me.

What would you say to yourself then – asks Maya

How would you stop it? What do you need to know?

Maya is guiding me

I laugh and say, I would say: stop thinking

I would you know, its true. Thinking is utterly useless./

And the more Maya shone, the more I danced , like a crazy thing around the fire, around the heat of the sun

Like Tigger bounding and bouncing over and over on his head, then his feet, then his head again

Like those dervish Hindu Princes and Gods with multiple arms and swords and gold embroidered sleeves beautiful orange silks and hyacinth satins, chop, chop, chop . More, more , more

Be gentle. Whispers Maya

Sit with it, let it go

Urges Maya.

Be still like the spirit , Sister.

Let it go, sweet surrender

Let it whirl and flame and spoil around you, let it be yet be still and know that I am the Supreme amidst all of it and amidst none of it.

Over and over.

Be still.

Be gentle.


Don’t think.

It is nothing the mind can conceive.

Watch with the eyes of the watcher.

Experience through the eyes of the watcher.

Dance through the eyes of the watcher

Drop the attachment to needing to know anything.

Life is linear.

It will pull us through.

There is nothing to do or be done.

Watch, baby Sister. Watch through the eyes of a child.

Sweetest of sweet surrender.

What’s it like, I whisper , on the other side of the veil.

Tell me, I long to know.

But you do know. You have always known.

Stop turning away from that knowing, follow the path when you can

Practise active surrender and practise is a doing word.


Like the river flows through rock and mountain side, there is no stopping natural force.

The pull to union is inevitable.

There is nothing to do but focus.

Like a one-pointed arrow.

You must focus.

And surrender with one pointed attrition.

And I journey on.


Illustration: zentangle doodle

Header Photograph: James Torres

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