Tara's Playground

A bridge over the Cadzow Burn. Photo Credit: Stephen Nelson

There are three bridges over the Cadzow Burn where Tara appears to me. Well, in truth, as an emanation of enlightened mind, she's everywhere, and she's always with me; but somehow these three bridges hold a visionary frequency - perhaps because of the burn, and the waterfall, and the wild, community garden; perhaps also because of the rich variety of overhanging trees. The stream runs through a glen, and the glen has been transformed into a park in the centre of town. It's so incredibly lush and aromatic in the spring and summer; some of the trees look Japanese, or Himalayan; others are native Scots, or European at least; there are poplars, pines and cherry blossoms, a mind boggling array of plants and wild flowers. The gardener was undoubtedly a visionary.

This is where I had my most powerful experience of unity consciousness, standing on another bridge, overlooking the park, the trees and the grass and the stream dissolving into an ecstatic field of white light, where no single object existed as an individuated presence, and I was there, merging with the radiance as absolute being, pure, undifferentiated awareness.

Years later, I happened to move into a house bordering the glen, and the park soon became an integral part of my own living space, an inspirational field of daily activity - walking, writing, contemplating. Quite fitting, then, that Tara should appear.

Sometimes she is white, with jet black hair, her mantra spontaneously rising on my tongue. Sometimes she is red or green, or even black, but always smiling, always scattering blossom in the air and laughing. They fall on me, petals of enlightened mind. Occasionally, she emerges from the twisted green branches of the moss covered willows over the stone bridge; other times she's the fullness of the woods on the slope behind the wooden bridge. She's deep and omnipresent, slim and elegant, bright and constantly delightful.

I feel so open here, so light and free. Every tree is me and I am the open space of the park and the sky above. There is a row of twelve poplars bordering the stream in the fenced off garden, and I swear I can hear them rush! - the sound of their energy! Whoosh! From earth to sky! Whoosh! And it's all Tara playing. I feel the devas too, the elemental spirits of the plants and the stream, playing, humming, whispering like excited children. But I can talk about them another time, because for now, it's all Tara. It's her playground, and I feel so blessed to live beside her.

Asemic Writing Inspired by Tara

These pieces were written as offerings to Tara