What is left if there are no thoughts?
Around 60,000 thoughts per day run through the human mind
And of those how many upon reflection can we say is true?
Narratives running, stories being told, and yet to who?
Chatter occupying all of the space available each day
So what is left then when moments of quietude eruptĀ
Out of the gentle and calming place within
When the roaring Oceans of thoughts
Subside down into a calm dam reflecting a crescent moon?
It is in the space in between in which invites enquiry,
No analysing or questions and even less answers
It is like a budding Rose emerging amongst crowded weeds
A pocket of light that illuminates what was being shadowed
The art of Tea is one that encompasses over lifetimesĀ
To let go of the thoughts which consumeĀ
And embrace places within that have been left dormant
Reminding us of the innocence of each and every moment
As the Incence smoke wafts above and dissolves in seconds
So too do our lives rise and then fallĀ over decades
In the blink of an eye they are gone
And both equally and undoubtably trueĀ
As Tea is steeped in our pots, resting and patient
There is a bridge which merges inner and outer
A place which feels familiar and tactile
Yet becomes vague and foreign all too oftenĀ
It is a language that cannot be taught with words
For letters and sentences dilute a precious feeling
As a knowing inside gets lost in translation
When being presented to the audience outside
So if the 60,000 thoughts a day were to be removed,
Who is left and what do you know about yourself?
Take away all identities and everything is then gained
As silence echoes for eternity and thoughtsĀ a mere second.
Ā