Meditation on Standing Still

Before we go any further, let us agree on some background: there are three images to keep in mind.

First is the image of rain upon water: it is raining, water falling upon water, and the individual raindrops pock the candle-wick wet fat drops plop.

And so begins the spreading out of circles.

We are standing on a float, a dock, by the edge of the sea, with hugely firs and trusting cedars leaning dark-dream evenings one side, and only ocean on the other, and the rain charging down, yahooing onto tin roofs and 45-gallon drums and onto you, onto you especially, ecstatic gum-boot face thrust trust-up, charging flowers, rushing urgent vocabularies from sea to living liquid air.

Second we have the sound of Raven's wing: you can always tell Raven from Crow by the deep-set WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH of its wings; the crow rides more on top of the air with rapid cocky strokes, while the raven ploughs through the ocean of air and you can hear the waves crash.

When you are making the sound of a crow in your throat you think more up, kind of natural gargling, in the throat, resonating up the nasal passages: a harsh wind. Raven is found more in the back in the throat, more deeply seated, like someone who has been thinking about something for a long time, and then begins to speak.

And for number three, what 'Here' have we?

Naturally this moment,
only this one,
where you and I are now.

Complete.