Posture, walking, sitting, are moments of profound reunion.
Twisted, even ill, the body expresses the embrace of the worlds,
both a gushing impulse and a welcoming receptacle,
the posture of sitting, of walking, or lying down,
this body in space, when it enters into practice and becomes a fountain,
in a bursting jet toward the sky, falling back into the wide ocean.
❤
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It strikes that this makes sense only when read as a statement of how spirit manifests and expresses itself through the physical.
Which begs the question: « where is the dividing line? »
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Is this is your version of ‘is there a permanent self’ ?
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I don’t know. I’ll have to think about that one…
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