It’s Totally Beyond Me…

Before we enjoy one of Miriam Louisa Simons’ poems, let’s have a look at her painting above. It is part of what Miriam calls ‘the breathscribe series’. In her own words: “A simple horizontal stroke was laid down, its length being determined by the amount of paint in the brush – or by the duration of the exhalation of my breath. On the inhalation I reloaded the brush. I was entranced by the patterns that emerged as I breathed my way across and down the surface.”


it’s totally beyond me…

Sitting this morning at summer’s window
what quirk of destiny’s unfolding
to the conviction of separation in
a human mind

How is it possible to so thoroughly
in something (a solid independent ‘me’)
that has never been able to be proven
to exist?

How is it possible to turn this
into a seeker who desperately
to be free of itself and its stories? (huh?)

How is it possible to
the in-your-face obvious and
that the present presents with
every nano-second of aliveness?

How could anything so
and unavoidable
turn into a mystery, a concept
that would fuel galaxies of
religious and philosophical

It’s totally beyond me…

(literally and figuratively)

But it’s bloody marvelous all the same.

~ Miriam Louisa Simons



Artwork by Miriam Louisa Simons 
(‘Coral Sea’ – acrylic on textured canvas)



Miriam Louisa’s different blogs:
this unlit light (with more of Miriam’s writing and poetry)
The Awakened Eye (Miriam’s blog on Art and the unknowable)
Echoes from Emptiness (from Miriam’s notebook)

– Miriam Louisa’s poetry page on ‘One The Magazine’.


DE50897D-6F8F-43B4-B149-44EDD7EFA8CBMiriam Louisa Simons is an auto-didactic artisan and a teacher of art and design, textile art and craft. Over the years, she has also been a facilitator of workshops exploring creativity and consciousness. Out of a lifelong dedication to spiritual inquiry, she is the creator of several excellent blogs on the non-dual journey. In her own words, she is now gloriously retired to studio practice, scribbling and quiet wonderment. “My work, as I see it, is to cultivate the garden of creativity by being so wholly present that I am absent, disappearing entirely into the movement of making, and marvelling at what gets made. Later – often much later – meaning might arrive. Or not.”

Wondering Mind Studio (On Miriam’s artwork)


Voices from Silence (other poems from the blog)


The Old Mansion

Two short writings, poems, that came to me while at a retreat:


The old mansion was taking it all
The songs of amazing grace 
The whispers of friends chatting softly

It was a week where beauty took its share
Giving to all and giving to me
Showing what an allowing space can do

It was like a burning fire 
Infused by the warmth of many happenings, 
Of each of our sweet hearts,
Leaving ashes of love behind




The vales and tops of Wales
Have come our way another time 
For a meeting in consciousness 
Another beautiful embrace

Between unease, heart openings
Questions were put into the fire 
Grappling with an understanding
Asking for a dissolution 

But there was more for us to come
For it blossomed against all odds

In the old mansion nothing less
Than an apotheosis of Love



Text and photo by Alain Joly



Voices from Silence (other poems from the blog)



The Intelligence of Chaos

The first line of this poem: ‘Trust the intelligence of chaos’, is a phrase borrowed from Jeff Foster. I was inspired with these few lines after reading it…


Trust the intelligence of chaos

It wants to find its way
Through layers of you

It wants to knock at your door
And make you open your heart

It wants to be protected by you
And let itself melt into your emptiness

It wants to see that it is not a bad guy
To be looked upon and pushed away

It wants to be found inexistant
In the inexistence that you are

It wants to be your friend
Claim your love again and again

It wants you to know that it cares
You only can find its implicit order



Poem by Alain Joly

Photo by Nicki Gwynn-Jones



6E052D74-E6E9-433B-A389-30CB554DE9B1Nicki Gwynn-Jones is a British photographer currently living in Orkney, a group of islands north of Scotland. She has a passion photographing birds, and the coastal life around, full of a wilderness shaped by wind and water. In 2012 she was awarded a Fellowship in Visual Art by the Royal Photographic Society. 
Nicki’s Websitenicki gwynn-jones


– “In the Dreamtime: A Meditation on the Flowers of Orkney” – by Nicki Gwynn-Jones – (Orcadian Ltd)

Voices from Silence (other poems from the blog)


Every Time I Open my Eyes

This poem from Rupert Spira appears at the end of the film ‘The Unknowable Reality of Things’. Produced and directed by Zaya & Maurizio Benazzo, this film is a poem, a meditation made of a series of chapters, each introducing a question like ‘What do we mean by ‘I’”, or “The pure intimacy of experience”. For each of them, Rupert Spira, sitting or standing in a beautiful forest environment, brings a clear answer. It is delivered over a succession of elegant and soothing views of nature, like a dance with shapes, colours, and textures, highly conducive to going within…


Every time I open my eyes,
I invite the world to take shape.
And every time the world takes shape,
I’m invited to open my eyes.

Every time I open my eyes,
I invite the world to take shape.
And every time the world takes shape,
I’m invited to open my eyes
And see the world raw and naked,
Holding out its hand,
Calling me into itself,
Where I am taken into the transparency of thing
And find myself transparent there.
Standing on the edge, looking down and in
To the dark, silent pool in which the world is cradled.
And I am cradled there, held with all things
And hold all things in myself.
Myself, not a thing in the world,
But This, Here, Seeing,
In which the world opens,
Inviting and offering itself.
And every time it is seen, it dies.
And in dying, holds out its hand again
Asking to be taken in.
And every time I take it in,
I, too, die.
And in dying, am known,
As This, Here, Seeing.
Every time I open my eyes.

~ Rupert Spira



This poem appears in the film ‘The Unknowable Reality of Things’

Painting from Claude Monet: ‘Cliff at Grainval’ (1887)




– ‘The Transparency of Things’ – by Rupert Spira – (New Harbinger Publications)
– DVD: ‘The Unknowable Reality of Things’ with Rupert Spira – (Neti Neti Media)

– Rupert Spira
– Neti Neti Media

Voices from Silence (other poems from the blog)


The Flower of Awareness

Awareness is like a flower
Always fresh and present and vibrant
In the morning mist of mind

It awakens to us every moment
Bending its fragrance and petals
To what we think is blurred for a time

Its fragility is an illusory one
For it is the only sharp thing we have
The indestructible ground of living

And in front of such shining beauty
What was once a so familiar scenery
Dissolves and fades like dust in the wind




Text and photo by Alain Joly



Voices from Silence (other poems from the blog)


The livelier dances the sea


Rabindranath Tagore, ‘The Poet’, as he is affectionately known in India, is the author of some delicate, lyrical poems, often with devotional accents. This gem comes from the lesser known ‘A Flight of Swans’:


My footstep
I know you hear night and day.

Your pleasure
Blooms in the purple of Autumn’s dawn,
Sparkles in the springtime shower of blossoms.

The nearer I come to you on your path,
The livelier dances the sea.

Like lotus-petals my life unfolds
From birth to birth,
And your crowding suns and stars
Circle me in wonder.

The blossom of the world woven of light
Fills your offering hands,
And your shy heaven
Unfolds its love,
Petal by petal,
In my sky.

~ Rabindranath Tagore



From ‘A Flight of Swans’ (Poems from Balākā) – Translated by Aurobindo Bose,
John Murray Publishers 

Picture by Alain Joly



– ‘Gitanjali’ (Song Offerings) – by Rabindranath Tagore – CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

Rabindranath Tagore (Wikipedia)

Voices from Silence (other poems from the blog)


Let us all set out on a long journey

Let us all set out on a long journey
One for which time doesn’t count
For it has to be lived in this very moment
This only is the mark of eternity

It is a never return engagement
For we know not the winds and rains
Neither the heights of the waves
The traps that go with such an endeavour

Sailing is indeed a hard work
For the clouds seemingly beautiful
Attractive in their so pristine shades of white
Could turn suddenly our deadliest enemies

We look so frail in our vessel
So fragile in front of great nature
Not the oceans and skies and clouds
Though grand they are indeed

It is time for keeping up the sails of willingness
Roaming along the raging roads
For now it is our own Nature
That claims to be marvelled at

Looked at with wonder
And curiosity
At last

At last!



Poem by Alain Joly

Painting by Marek Rużyk



Voices from Silence (other poems from the blog)