The secret of the beauty way…. is that the pain that comes to slay you, is always the rough magic of the powerful hand that can raise you, up and graced by yonder light.
Much of your pain is self-chosen
It is the bitter potion
By which the physician within you
Heals your vision and strengthens your compassion.
When that medicine stirs, seek not the comfort of the crowd, nor a ‘cause’ to champion.
Beware of those who claim to cure you,
for they may rob you of the genius that is struggling to be born.
Beware of those who aim to recruit you to their tribe of healed or healers,
for the ‘special’ are those who feast upon the wound, and who fear the truly wise.
the inevitable hand that churns the well within us will first raise up the poison;
Sour seed for alchemy.
The remedy is stillness.
The tincture made; tranquility
You will be made to ride the tempest of the opposites
the fare is grief and sweat.
You will be made to take the hollow road
and take initiation
in the ancient caves of suffering..
The crowd will thereby shame you, the mob may turn its back.
You will taste the strange fruit of wilderness;
the rage of exile and the thunder of the void.
… and from this stark place,
the theatre of becoming, you may find that golden sword,
the brilliance of your true soul, not traded on the market, but steeled by something fierce.
Should you arise,
Having done your own work
in earning the invisible
You may walk out, stooped, but radiant one dawn
And receive life’s great treasure: the quivering death by beauty.
And hence slayed;
for samurai, saint, sage or simple lover of all things tao… all the robes and gowns are yours to wear
once you are throned in that exquisite peace
Which settles after storm.