Mind is the womb of Saraswati, wherein all wisdom rests, and from which comes forth all meaning.
My relationship with My Lady is intensely personal, and much of it is too private to share, for reasons that are probably obvious to anyone who reads this blog. I’ve had to cut conversations in meatspace short when they began to get a bit too close to my actual practices, because I’m just not willing to share what those are with someone who clearly won’t agree.
From the lake of crystal dreams
rise a thousand lotus flowers
and they unfurl their pristine petals
only for the light of
the flawless wisdom moon
which you wear upon your brow
as the jewel within your crown.
My Lady wears a silver crown
It is a shining crescent sliver upon her brow.
Her feet rest upon the backs of the ocean’s swan-white waves
While with her hands she plays the strings inside my heart
To bring forth this fevered song.
The more I seek My Lady, the bigger she seems, and yet the more familiar she becomes. She is as vast as the heavens and the ocean, and yet remains an intimate friend and a beloved teacher. Is she Saraswati, Yangchenma, or Benzaiten-sama? Is she all of these or none of these? Some of these or some others? When I ask, the answer is merely, yes.
She is My Lady.