The Circle is the One

by Joy Taylor

I am writing to write.
Even if I find myself at a dead end,
it is Ok.
I’m righting myself in writing.

So, what is the story to be told?
What is the wisdom or pleasure to be behold?

Can I write as a listener today?
Am I willing to let go enough to hear a voice
or even let the voice come through my fingertips faster than I can even comprehend it?

The absolute delight…
To be a vehicle of magnificence and grace
This is the true origination of all masterpieces, anyway,
I say.

So, surrender, it is.
Instruments delight when played.
Try me. Play me.

Who is the Master? The One who gets out of their own way
Who is the Artist? The One who allows a creative flow through them
Who is the Teacher? The One who listens to what she speaks as it is being spoken
Who is the Lover? The One opening to the moment of each sensational touch as a dance.

Be the One who has the courage to be used by the Divine.
Be the One who knows a much greater expanse than human shells can or ever will.

What is possible when One expresses?

You are then the Oracle- the sage- the culinary creator- the happiest of all,
like the fool of the major arcana,
skipping over a stream in a dream,
safely landing exactly where she needs to be.

In your imperfections and random muse,
comes something no one knew before
… It is here, in the dangerous place deeper than the center of the circle,
lost in the speck of the dot
and the mystery of the atom.
very tiny, it is more spacious than form.
Oh my.

That which I fear is that which I crave
… It is my truest most nourishing food of all.
This is my breath and air.
Not error but air.

I have circled and traveled around the circumference until I was dizzy and bored.
Then someone said,
“Go to the center and see if in that dark spot you can find and explore the unknown.”

There was some voice in the center that said, “enter,” so I did.
I could not see it before, but now I am it.
I am the dot and the dot is the One,
And, I am the One writing again.
Somehow it feels like freedom might have found me!
Oh my.

So, dead ends aren’t quite applicable when traveling in circle-like metaphors
and the One starts with an O for a good reason.
Oh my.
O m.

The moral of the story told?

Be bOld.
Let gO.
Know the One as the One,
and lOve allows more lOve.
Trust it.