The Zen Priest Sings A Song Of The Blessing Way

A BLESSING WAY

James Ishmael Ford

IN A BEGINNING

In a beginning was light.

And dark.

In a beginning the cosmos began to unfold within a great explosion.

Time and space, galaxies of stars and planets, and a hundred million million other things began to spin into existence.

Living. And Dying.

At some point awareness happened. Beings appeared at least once who could notice and reflect.

We happened.

And we wondered.

AFTER THE BEGINNING

We loved. And we hated. We created bonds of affection. And separated ourselves from others. We oppressed each other. And we helped each other. We danced. We sang. We told stories.

We created meaning and meaninglessness.

We longed.

And some among us cast our gaze inward.

Looking at ourselves we found a sense of imbalance. We experienced our vulnerability, our passingness. And as aware beings, our hurt. We told ourselves a thousand stories about this hurt, as being lost, as sinfulness, as wandering far from home.

Some of these stories helped. Others made things worse.

Still, we found hundreds of ways of passing through to another vision, an invitation to a peace that passes all understanding.

We created the religions of this world. Mixed things, these religions. Too much about dividing us and them. Too much about justifying high and low. But, also, other things.

Some among us turned our attention to knowing and with that realized not knowing.

INTO THE MYSTERY

We danced ourselves into mystery.

Out of the mystery of not knowing we came to new songs and a lord of songs.

God. Breathmaker. Oshun. Jesus. Mary. Great Spirit. Guanyin. Amida. Shakyamuni. Krishna. Shiva. Heaven. The names keep coming.

But mostly Mother. The cry of the dying soldier. Cry of the dying…

The last word of the lost and left behind.

Mother.

Source.

Intimate.

We found ourselves called to intimacy. We found ourselves called to a dance. Many dances. All help. None seem complete.

Everything is broken.