this place and time is sacred i am blessed awaken my heart be here now
no striving no contriving here now as is nothing is missing
om ah hum om ah hum om ah hum
[add on for longer practice]
extending the breath into the expanse of suchness rest in clear light luminosity of union the great seal
no striving no contriving here now as is nothing is missing
in natural freedom without support experience pure deathless mind unchanging bliss supreme the great perfection
no striving no contriving here now as is nothing is missing
om ah hum om ah hum om ah hum
commentary / notes (ongoing)
each word and verse has what is called an outer, inner, and secret meaning. these notes are meant to make them apparent. in the course of practice these meanings are further revealed, therefore the comments are ongoing.
this place, not just anywhere; a place where the buddha’s teachings are known and available, and we have the ability to receive and understand them. this country, this abode, this room, this one speck of a spot in the universe where you sit; feel that connection to the ground.
this time, not the past nor the future; after many generations the unbroken lineage teachings arise presently. blessed with precious human life; with the privileges advantages resources and capabilities for liberation in this lifetime clearly laid out before us by the masters.
awaken is a call, a command, and a request; encouraging the sprout to push up through the dirt, to take the nourishment of the field tended by the most skilled gardener. the heart is the amulet box for the mind; open and release the one, the other, both, they are the same.
as it is said, the past is dead and the future is unborn; this is no other place and time other than here and now. the past is manufactured by hindsight and rationalization, the future by hope and fears; neither are real while the present is the only time of truth.
(to be continued)
mark hannan copyright 2016-2021 all rights reserved
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In an abundant wood
Of Queen Anne’s lace
dried and brown like bamboo,
the ant scurries its way over fallen
bramble and raspberry thorn,
twisted California poppy blooming orange.
As I lay there, intertwined
listening,
I hear an old man
with an ancient smile
in simple language say –
“Every step is a Prayer.” 1
Every feather in a wing
every sail set to sea
thread woven as cloth
horn blast in the fog
every step is a Prayer;
each
one hand
holding
Another.
Every medicine taken
line and lure cast
ribbon tied in a bow
hand in the collection plate
home run or base hit;
each one
a Prayer.
Every blood draw and needle stick
tongue taste of envelope glue,
spatula slipped under bubbling eggs,
tender kiss before going to sleep – each is a step
a test of faith;
every step is a Prayer.
Know each measure of your breath,
the rise and fall in and out of each moment;
of every step you take.
Every step is a Prayer
each
One hand
holding
Another
1. Wallace Blak quoting his granfather, Black Elk
Copyright Mark Hannan 1998
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The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German
Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers,
A magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace.
And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question
The bravery. Say it’s not courage. Call it a passion.
Would say courage isn’t that. Not at its best.
It was impossib1e, and with form. They rode in sunlight,
Were mangled. But I say courage is not the abnormal.
Not the marvelous act. Not Macbeth with fine speeches.
The worthless can manage in public, or for the moment.
It is too near the whore’s heart: the bounty of impulse,
And the failure to sustain even small kindness.
Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being.
Not strangeness, but a leap forward of the same quality.
Accomplishment. The even loyalty. But fresh.
Not the Prodigal Son, nor Faustus. But Penelope.
The thing steady and clear. Then the crescendo.
The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding.
Not the surprise. The amazed understanding. The marriage,
Not the month’s rapture. Not the exception. The beauty
That is of many days. Steady and clear.
It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment.
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The poem Alethea, by Mark Hannan in 1993, was written as an invocation creating sacred space and is meant to be accompanied by the beat of a doumbek or celtic frame drum.
Dionysiac procession. British Museum. about 100 CE. Rome, Roman Empire. Photo by Yair Haklai, 2009.
aletheus; a compendium 
