Wholeness

"How does the true man of Tao
Walk through walls without obstruction,
Stand in fire without being burnt?

Not because of cunning
Or daring;
Not because he has learned,
But because he has unlearned.

All that is limited by form, semblance,
sound, color,
Is called *object*.
Among them all, man alone
Is more than object.
Though, like objects, he has form and
semblance,
He is not limited to form. He is more.
He can attain to formlessness.
When he is beyond form and
semblance,
Beyond "this" and "that,"
Where is the comparison
With another object?
Where is the conflict?
What can stand in his way?

He will rest in his eternal place
Which is no place.
He will be hidden
In his own unfathomable secret.
His nature sinks to its root
In the One.
His vitality, his power
Hide in secret Tao.

When he is all one,
There is no flaw in him
By which a wedge can enter.
So a drunken man, falling
Out of a wagon,
Is bruised but not destroyed.
His bones are like the bones of other
men,
But his fall is different.
His spirit is entire. He is not aware
Of getting into a wagon
Or falling out of one.

Life and death are nothing to him.
He knows no alarm, he meets obstacles
Without thought, without care,
Takes them without knowing they are
there.

If there is such security in wine,
How much more in Tao.
The wise man is hidden in Tao.
Nothing can touch him.

from "The Way of Chuang-Tzu" (ed and trans Father Thomas Merton)

from Nirmala Devi's Daily Inspirations

Father Thomas Merton rocks - a tremendous gift of writing he left for us.  And so damn honest he was.  He went into a monastery and wrote the mose eloquent poetry of finally being alone with God - "Thoughts in Solitude."  My father sent me a copy of the book and it's difficult sometimes to understand - especially when I get too wrapped up in the mundane world.  Father Thomas Merton's spirit has definitely been with me through some tremendously difficult times.  For this and for so much of his emerging the East to the West - bringing the practice of yoga to Catholic nuns, translating the Tao and more, writing to Henry Miller (the writer), I bow to his lotus feet again and again.