Seeds of Dharma in the Western-seeming Zones

from The Mother Poems by Shambhavi Sarasvati

When we say “classical,” that is
violent and self-authorizing.

When we say “origin,” 
we erase forgotten
people's words.

When we say “traditional,” we
should mention
brokenness and not knowing.

When we say “authentic,” we
are not entirely so.

Seeds of wisdom blow around,
native to wherever beings
make teachers
of earth, water, fire, wind, and sky.

These seeds are never born,
and they never fully bloom
in the pages of books
no matter how old or
wise.

Until we meet the
barefoot walkers
lighting fires and
offering water to the land,
drawing yantras from their hearts,
and chanting mantras heard
directly from the sky,

until we see the Buddha fields,
luminous with 
the primordial light
only mimicked by our sun,

the real history
and destination of seeds
remains unknown.

Let’s just walk
with the barefoot ones,
heads down
in supplication, study,
offerings, and prayer.

Let our honesty
be so strong,
it calls the seeds to grow,
emerging naturally from the
one pervasive ground.

from The Mother Poems by Shambhavi Sarasvati

Want more? Please join me and the Jaya Kula community for satsang & kirtan every Sunday at 3:30pm Pacific. Come in person to 1215 SE 8th Ave, Portland, OR, or join the Jaya Kula News Facebook group to get the Zoom link for satsang. You can also listen to my podcast—Satsang with Shambhavi—wherever podcasts are found.