In God Makes the Rivers to Flow; An Anthology of the World’s Sacred Poetry & Prose, Eknath Easwaran includes a selection from Swami Paramananda entitled “Origin of All.”  I’ve written the following poem-like reflections inspired by this selection.

Nothing Not Nothing

 
Thou art nameless, formless, but Thou comest when
            there is the genuine call. That call Thou answerest.
—Swami Paramananda

We call you by so many names

but none of them are your name.

We represent you by many forms

but none of them are your form.

You are so far beyond comprehension

that words fail.

There is nothing that can sum up

the essence of you.

There are billions of galaxies

in the universe, and you encompass

those galaxies. You encompass

billions of universes made up

of billions of galaxies.

There is no way to comprehend

your multiplicity and your simplicity.

So many people have said

we are a wave in the ocean of you.

We are your motion. But not

just us, all the beings that exist

in infinity, all their possible lives,

all the being that exist in eternity,

all their possible lives.

We are waves that could go

so many directions, could begin

and end so many places,

could be interrupted so many times.

We are on the surface

and the depths of us stay still

in unity with the depths of you.

You are the impossible made possible.

And we are images in a million

mirrors choosing one path

amidst billions of paths.

Each of us is infinite in possibility.

And you encompass the infinite

of infinites. You encompass

the infinite possibilities

of infinite lives across eternity.

How big are you?

All of this held in the singularity

of you, the oneness of you.

To another me, I am just

a possibility. To every possible me

I am just one possibility

amidst all possibilities.

Every possible me has her own

reality of which I am not a part.

And somehow, all alternative

realities are as real within you

as this moment is to me,

in which I write these words

and contemplate this impossible

possibility. I am so blessed

to be in this moment that is

not better nor worse than any

other moment nor any other

possible moment. This moment

I remember waiting for a train

and asking myself what could

be better than waiting for a train?

Why be impatient? Why hurry

to get to another moment

when all moments exist

in this moment, all moments

are one? But I have gotten

distracted. I meant to say something

about calling you, calling upon

you, welcoming you into

this one moment which is

the essence of you in sum,

this moment in which I can be

present to you and you can be

present to me, you who are the present,

even though that is not your true name,

if you have a true name. Supreme

Deity, Mother, Lord, Divine Presence,

I call upon you by names that

are veils between us and you,

names that are icons, pictures, idols,

which allow us to connect to you

by making you small enough

to touch, but which separate us

from you by making you into

our own image, not what you are.

You are presence, not presence,

not not presence, not not not presence,

and ever on into an infinity

of not and negations. You are the beyond

that is here. You are the here

that is beyond. You are the material

world and everything beneath

and above it. You are that consciousness

from which everything emerges

and that not consciousness and

not not consciousness. And to think

that when I call upon you

you answer, not in words, but

in love, not in words, but

in images within. What are you

other than the impossible possible?

What are you but my own longing

and the answer to my longing?

What are you other than

nothing not nothing not not nothing

not not not…