Bringing Home the Bacon



Imagine living where all the birds and bees are in excellent moods, sharing pleasant conversations amongst various species of themselves in the shiny glad atmosphere of a glorious mountain morning;

where certain flimsy but tenacious assumptions of separate individuality dissolve in a sudden hush of radiant transparency — just the engaging goof of infinite consciousness expressing itself in the form of passing cloud thoughts such as, “I am”, and then promptly releasing them back into the pristine air of its own immaculate skyhood; 

where nothing is made or unmade, there is no path to unconditionality, no elsewhere place where all is resolved into some lean and lawful facsimile of itself, nothing more or less than this — Mind alone, dreaming the dream of space and time between one big bang and the next unobstructed transiency proof enough of our euphoric unreality! 

Here is how it goes: arriving home from the market, we tote the groceries in and then put them away. Amos, our black Lab retriever who stayed behind with brimming eyes, is now so happy to see us that there is no before or after to his tail wagging, effortlessly transmitting the essential happiness, every visible and invisible sphere of  being unified in such joy, beyond their knowing, beyond even our own!

Smiling and laughing, we cannot help but vibrate to his canine ecstasy, for we are not other than that in our own wagging — one tail, swinging back and forth through space, uniting galaxies in one waggy motion, just happy for the happiness of union itself — not as something yet to come, not as memory, not as something to hope for in a dream of distress, just this itself, this life indescribable — and so he watches as we stack the boxes, bottles, bags, and cans, thoroughly enjoying a tasty bacon chewy, in love beyond our saying.

My Beloved knows where everything goes, in an oracular kind of fashion. Somehow we share the same knowledge, and this always amazes us. It doesn’t take much – what’s not amazing about just being? We have prepared our whole life to joyfully forget where anything goes, and so it all falls naturally into place without concern, all watched over by Amos’ loving grace.




About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
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2 Responses to Bringing Home the Bacon

  1. lovelygirlie says:

    Amos is a lovely Soul.

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