[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Within a blank canvas, all possible paintings exist as potential. On emptied earth, all possible buildings cast shadows. Within you, all emotions and states of consciousness float as seeds that have yet to sprout.
Pause and breathe. This moment is a sprouted seed.
From the pregnant emptiness of all potential and consciousness, some things arise and others do not. There can be no creation without the omnipresent field of all possibility. It is the night which underlies all days, the sea surrounding all emergences of land, and the tranquil, clear consciousness which ripples and peaks as you and I.
Before the clay was molded and twisted into a shape, you lay dormant in it as a possibility. Your brother and sisters in that state before realization were all manifestations that ever were, ever will be, and never will be. You are a sibling to the infinite variations, and your Mother the clay does not cease to exist when you are formed. This body, this mind, this heart – these are just forms of that same substance, and if you mistake your form for yourself you lose all your family.
Each day, we arise again from the emptiness through grace. Each moment, we choose form again through perception. The movement from the formless to the formed – this is the action of the Father, of which you are a part. The ever-present and eternal consciousness, free of all conditioning – this is the Mother, and you are a part of Her nurturing too.
How easily we confuse the emptiness that underlies all appearance with a lack of presence! Ever seeking to impose the inclinations and obsessions of our limited minds and microscopic perspectives, we either perceive no meaning or try to create our own meaning. But the meaning is always there. It is just formless. Love is formless, for She ripples and moves in waves. God is formless, for He is all forms. The emptiness is first understood as a lack of form, then apprehended as a stillness and a fluidity, and finally embraced as ourselves.
Oh, Child of the Father and the Mother, you are formless. You are the field of all possibility stirred into motion. Why do you play with such desperate seriousness in this playground of Love?
Primal Shakti, I bow to Thee!
All-Encompassing Shakti, I bow to Thee!
That through which Divine Creates, I bow to Thee!
Creative Power of the Kundalini, Mother of all Mother Power, To Thee I Bow!