Just Look

Here is a poem I wrote relating my experience of meditation:

Just Look

Not with your eyes 

But with the heart 

If you've forgotten how

Let the eyes remind the heart 

How to see

Ask what is there 

Acknowledge the despair 

Of the parts of you

That have long been without witness 

Forgive the darkness for your lack of sight

Forgive the blindness for the lack of light

Read the verses etched into the space within

Bhajans you were born to sing

Feel the rise and fall of stone born of breath

Hear the bells unstruck that ring

Most ancient melodies never heard but known 

Brand new scriptures never written but grown

A tree of life and a seed not yet sown

Together look to me Alone

An Essay on "Just Look": A Journey into the Unified Self

In the landscape of contemporary poetry, there are works that describe an experience, and then there are those that create one. The poem "Just Look" falls firmly into the latter category, functioning not merely as a collection of verses, but as a gentle, meditative guide leading the reader from the periphery of external perception to the profound center of their being. Through a series of compassionate invitations and rich, paradoxical imagery, the poem charts a course inward, beginning with the simple act of seeing and culminating in the unified state of the self, which it powerfully names "Alone."

The poem's journey begins by challenging the primacy of physical sight, establishing a fundamental distinction between two modes of perception. "Not with your eyes / But with the heart," it advises, contrasting surface-level observation with a deeper, intuitive knowing. Yet, it avoids the common pitfall of spiritual bypassing—the rejection of the mundane world in favor of the spiritual. In a brilliant turn of compassionate wisdom, the poem suggests a synergy between these two ways of seeing: "If you've forgotten how / Let the eyes remind the heart / How to see." Here, the external world is not an obstacle but a gateway, a tangible reminder that can reawaken the dormant faculty of inner vision. This instruction sets a tone of gentle integration that pervades the entire piece, valuing all aspects of human experience as part of the path to wholeness.

Having established the intention to see deeply, the poem guides the reader toward the necessary and often difficult work of self-witnessing. The second stanza bravely insists on turning towards suffering, not away from it. The instruction to "Acknowledge the despair / Of the parts of you / That have long been without witness" is a profound psychological and spiritual directive. It speaks to the universal human need for our inner world, especially our pain, to be seen and held without judgment. This act of witnessing is framed not as a struggle, but as an act of grace. The closing lines of the stanza, which call for the forgiveness of both "the darkness" and "the blindness," masterfully remove the burden of blame. Suffering is reframed as a simple lack of awareness—an absence of light—rather than a moral failing, allowing the reader to approach their inner shadows with compassion instead of fear.

Once this space of compassionate awareness has been created, the poem transitions from the psychological realm to the mystical. The third stanza reveals what can be perceived when the inner noise of unwitnessed pain subsides. The imagery here is subtle and sacred, pointing to a pre-existing spiritual reality within. The "verses etched into the space within" and the "Bhajans you were born to sing" suggest an innate, personal truth that is not learned but remembered. The reference to "the bells unstruck that ring" is a beautiful articulation of the yogic concept of Anahata Nada, the primordial, unstruck sound of the universe heard only in the silence of deep meditation. This inner sanctum is shown to be immanent and embodied, felt in "the rise and fall of stone born of breath"—aa stunning metaphor for the physical body as a living, breathing temple, both solid and ephemeral.

The final stanza brings the journey to its apex through a series of beautiful paradoxes that transcend the limits of ordinary logic. The "Ancient melodies never heard but known" speak to the truth of intuition, while the "Brand new scriptures never written but grown" celebrate personal, evolving wisdom over rigid dogma. This culminates in the image of "A tree of life and a seed not yet sown," a perfect encapsulation of the human spirit as simultaneously complete and full of infinite potential. All these integrated parts—the seen and the unseen, the ancient and the new, the manifest and the potential—are drawn together in the final, resonant line: "Together look to me Alone." The capitalized "Alone" transforms the word from a state of loneliness into a name for the ultimate, singular reality. It is the voice of the unified Self, the inner witness, the divine source that can only be found when all aspects of one's being are gathered together in the profound stillness of inner solitude.

Ultimately, "Just Look" is far more than a poem; it is a spiritual practice articulated in verse. It provides a clear, compassionate, and accessible map for an interior journey, guiding the reader from the simple act of looking to the profound state of being. Its lasting power lies in its core message: that true sight is not about looking outward, but about integrating inward, until the eyes, the heart, the darkness, and the light all find their unified source in the quiet majesty of the "Alone."