To The Present Moment of Nature

trusting now, that each moment will hold exactly what it will - and nothing more until another moment follows. This is the infinite patience of nature, of a seedling in trust that a bloom happens in a time of its own, or a stream's caress of every stone in its eventual reach of an oceans shore. It's this moment alone, just as, and without addition of a wish for things to be other. There is a fluid course of time, motion lent to singular awareness - this is how we view a lifetime, moments strung from point to point. Yet to know that each instant is as well a never again experience of totality, complete in all of its variables, not one aspect able to ever be repeated - than our trust too is infinite. We have returned to the present moment of nature. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Re-enchantment of The Ordinary View

it's the re-enchantment of the ordinary view, directionless now, and room for always one more thing - seen in a seamless allowing of space to form, and too in that every object simply gives way from thinly held lines, continuous as the whole. Nothing has truly changed, our sight remains in the mundane sense of life in order - yet an openness is provided from our point of observation, aware, and everything seeming to fit in a perfect flow of one. The view is the same, but now we too are added in its belonging, life is seen, and at no point are we removed. There is the world - and we see ourselves in every detail. 

~

Peace,

Eric

It's Never Not This Present Moment

from this point of present moment - nowhere else is found. This is where our thoughts are given room to wander, daydream better hours, and memories brought from past. It all happens exactly in the only moment that we're living. There is never a time that isn't now, and even mindful of breath, thought, or body, will ever brings us any closer. So our meditation is to simply notice, inquiring as to when, where, life is now occurring. This then provides our only answer. It's not complicated - it's never not this present moment. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Grace of Every Word

subtle play of words - and to this point it's not to even say that I am awareness itself, but that there's just aware and I am this, and somehow too its content. But again these words seem to split the meaning into two, a slight implication of awareness being made into a separate point of view, existing apart from any thought or object that's observed. Words always fail. It's the nature of description to never fully capture the essence of display. Yet at the same time there is the grace of every word, falling seamless on a page, retaining meaning of original thought, spoken in accord to a silence that receives. It's never, not, all one thing. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

The Experience of Winter's Touch

there is nothing other than this, right now, and all we seem to know - each moment stands alone, even as it unfolds in continuous motion of events. We perceive in limited fashion, our senses only telling a partial story from the whole. So our world feels slow to change, that what is now is lasting past its due, lending a sense of permanence to life in constant flow. Yet our experience of now, solid in the faith of what's present, is an illusion in the light of all that shifts through time. Right now is what we have, and this is the peace found through its acceptance - but right now isn't for long, even in the depth of winter a flowers bud is given all it needs to bloom in spring. There is no reaching for a different season, no hope for extended light. There's only this moment, the experience of winters touch and a subtle growth through motion. It's innate in every aspect of life, a calm acceptance of each instant given, a bloom, and then always what falls next. Everything belong to the moment that it happens. 

~

Peace, 

Eric 

Layered To Eternity

so sometimes too it's just about an experience, a sense of self and then its absence - this in no ways measures the reality of each moment, as if one aspect shows the depth of spiritual existence and the other simply tells a mistaken point of view. I am - and this is vast, containing a sense of self along with every other detail of the world. Nothing is excluded. Honestly, beyond this moment and the claim of my existence - I have no idea of what true in any ultimate sense of the word. Truth seems to be shifting, and by this I mean fluid, not a solid one time deal known forever, but a continuous expression of one thing in various designs. It would be impossible to know myself than as just a static personal identity, or even as the void of self at all. Perhaps what comes closest is to simply say - capacity. That I am every passing experience, as well as the aware presence that holds the view, I am layered to eternity, never once fully revealed, yet always, always whole. Maybe better still is just the silence of now knowing, - and how this too holds the doubt, and promise, of every thought and word. To this point is the reach of my inquiry. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Told Through Any Object

it's told through any object, not just the thing itself but the space that offers itself in an embrace to define, the infinite trickled down to finite form. One object is traced back to the emptiness that holds the world, in this way we see the whole universe through the small, a meditation brought to focus in single detail. Through this we see, truly see, that a blade of grass is equal to the field of all existence, a flowers bloom is offered as the entire earth's smile, and one person is essential to the whole. Nothing is ever missing. And everything belongs. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

One Thing In Continuous Welcome

let's proceed - our starting point is always here, and never once straying from this moment, no matter how varied its appearance. It's not that we're located at the center of existence, but that our view shows existence in a spread of completion, with no break for new beginnings, and no lines drawn to distinguish an end. We see this from any object, a trees branch in its reach through sky - air simply parting in acceptance without ceasing in its own expanse. This is all seen from here, our own aware acceptance, readily expanding with all that comes to view, never once arguing as to what appears, or if it all belongs at all. Our starting point is where the world begins by virtue of this belonging, no matter where we're found existence is spreading from this aware point of being, and too we're embraced in the fullness of acceptance - one thing in continuous welcome of itself. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Where Everything Is

where everything is - and this is what we point to, our own capacity to serve as space to hold the world. There is nothing revealed through emptiness that doesn't now hold form, our view simply indicates specifics of awareness, locations found in space and time. To truly see any object is to include ourselves, as well as the emptiness that offers to define. It's all one thing, seer to seen, and too the awareness of it all. This is where everything is, no central location, but the spread of all existence. To this, there is no point that is not right here, now. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

A Story About Stories

to simply be - and by this is to live without adding stories to define, allowing ourselves the natural expression provided by life alone. Our easiest return (as if we ever really left) to being is the refusal to maintain belief in stories layered thinly against the reality of nothing. It's not a claim arguing that we don't exist - but that we are existence itself prior to the addition of beliefs. We are. This is the basis of identity, everything begins with being and we proceed to create and indeed, inherit, definitions of what we are. None of them are inherently true, yet many, if not all, will feel so, and many too will serve us in someway, for sometime. Until they don't. Or until we wish for something more, perhaps an authentic experience of seeing without labels applied. What if we saw a flower in the simplicity of itself? Stripped of any story, returning again and again to seeing just the essence of its bloom - and in this view come to our own bare existence, intrinsically linked beyond description to what a flower truly is, without words to tell us so. It's seeing life in the bloom of its expression, even briefly before our own story hurries in to define a flowers worth by our design. This too, can be a beautiful story - but we are now slightly removed from this original view. There's the addition of a seer, our every belief of every flower ever seen is now layered to the view, a name for the nameless moment of pure seeing. We are no different than the story of a flower, our life is carried forward under the weight of every story and belief that's been told before. Unless we return -tracing our view to original seeing, and again just being without story.

~

Peace,

Eric 

Wind Will Always Reach us

nature doesn't seek, no flower seeks the touch of wind in order to spread its pollen, trees are free in their reach of branch and roots. Everything is in actuality of what's present. Even animals rely on instinctive means to meet their needs, never aimless in a hopeful wander, it's an inborn skill to feed on what the land now offers, roaming next to where more provides. We find ourselves removed from this process, yet not so far as to be separate from the source. It's just that now, we wander aimless, our basic needs provided through easier means. This is the progress of the modern world, helpful in so many ways to less fortunate people, and we should be hopeful and helpful that one day we can reach many more. But somehow, it seems, we've found ourselves off track, a subtle sense of not quite belonging to the world. We do though, we do belong, as much now as ever before. As much as any flower, tree, or animal - we are a natural expression of it all. Different now, yes, but still without need to seek this true belonging, no effort to be life, to be anything other than exactly what we are. There's no need to be a seeker. The touch of wind will always reach us. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Devoted To Myself Alone

of devotion-  and for me it's given solely to the moment, committed to simply seeing what unfolds in the light of its acceptance. Nothing is excluded, and yet no specifics are singled as more worthy than another. This is not a devotion of objects, or conditioned to be fulfilled - it's the natural reception of all that's offered, my spacious capacity to allow things to be, and recognize there will be a time of change as well. I am devoted to the actuality of what's occurring, as well as the response to what occurs, making no distinction of good will from a wish for things to be other. Everything's allowed. This is the devotion between earth and sky, their trade of form for space, a tree rooted in commitment to one while reaching fully to the other, no trace of choice displayed at all. Through this it might be seen that true devotion doesn't exist at all - I am given no more choice as to what's at hand than the tree in what it receives from root or branch. Or perhaps it's all just life in devotion to itself, an allowing grace of change and motion. To this than - I am devoted to myself alone, life currently unfolding. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Language of The Moment

it's giving voice to the specific language of the moment, unique, authentic to every aspect found. This too includes our contribution, it's not mere listening, but a chorus of the whole in which we now belong. These words reflect only this moment, sounds heard, scenery of my surroundings, thoughts that linger, pass, and then silence left behind. Even as I write the language of the moment shifts to something other, a new world is spoken to existence, and just as quickly disappears to be remembered. To find the poetic voice of one moment is an impossibility of time, everything written always comes after. But still, there's the gift of receiving, poetry being given now and later recorded to the page - it's that one moment of pure listening, sites gifted without merit to the eyes. It doesn't matter if what's recorded falls after. There's always what the moment offers. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Perfect For The Moment - And Always Changing Too

there is no better you, no self to be improved or otherwise brought to change - there is only the moment of this expression, changing on its own accord. This brings us always to the present, with no projection to a better version we are free to relax in every seeming fault, knowing that within this very acceptance we are already in the midst of something new, a rebirth to possibilities yet unknown. To this it's likened to the bud just before bloom, no rush to flower, yet conditions always shifting to bring its opening to the sky. It's right effort, natural, allowing what is, not for the hope of something better, but for the sake of what is present now. We bloom in our acceptance. There is no better you, and only because there is only the you of this one expression. Perfect for the moment, and always changing too. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Just Words - Given To The Moment

and at a certain point, an artist fails in their attempt to portray this - life, without the layers of words, and false meaning, a landscape of simple design. Reality always gives itself away, nothing but its true expression is ever present. Our first glance at any object shows us exactly this, a tree in perfect elegance of self portrayal, the oceans reach to shore, a bird gifted by wing and air. We see all this from our own space of complete belonging - nothing added from this point of being. Yet there comes a wish to bring this true site to others, a shared understanding of beauty known, and in this we lose a subtle position of the raw, perfect experience of the moment - we shift, even if only imagined, from sheer observation of the whole, to separate observer, and in this we lose ourselves as art for the sake of being artist. Perhaps it's a fair trade of space for beauty, even with the momentary sense of loss from our belonging. Or, perhaps better still, an artist simply allows, and allows again their work to be a lie, imperfect, though it too belongs in essence of the moment it's observed. My attempt here is obvious - it's just words, given to the moment. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

A Deep Appreciation of What We Truly Know

how do we know? For this inquiry leads us only to uncertain truths, an area unneeded of belief and committed faith. What we truly know is never found outside this moment, a personal experience of open communicating as the whole. My relationship with the world is based on the confluence of sight, sounds, sensations both apparent and subtle to the senses. Anything added to this simply obscures the obviousness of the moment. To see the truth of beauty and inter-beingness doesn't take conjecture - a flower's bloom is dependent the on ground of its nourishment, rain and light received from sky, an insects carried pollen to reach new life. It's all one thing in inter-action with itself. It's beauty in the expression of life. So we find ourselves beyond philosophy, without religion, and left only with deep, deep appreciation of what we do truly know. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Faith of Spontaneity

it's a creative mystery, expressed now as exactly what's present, and never to be repeated in the moment that it's found. This is only how it can be, and no blame to karma, or praise to higher fortune required. For things to be otherwise is the impossibility of a life revised, and right now we only, ever, have this present moment. Yet it's the faith of spontaneity, of new beginnings always ready to unfold, that serve our current needs. Life is always happening, never static, as even seasons vary through their days. So our trust is just now, not in any change to come, but in this instant being its own new becoming. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Mostly - It's Just A Mystery

it is, and in this, we find nothing true is missing - the only ultimate truth expressed is the constant shift of one thing in altering appearance. We find no break between earth, and then a trees reach to sky, and from this we can trace it all back to our own observation, an open embrace of simply seeing this all become. Yet none of this too ever actually stays the same, the ground depletes and erodes, the tree loses its hold and nourishment, and the sky itself is always changing in its offer. This is truth. In no way are we removed from this, our bodies being nothing more than dust in gathered form. No moment holds us for too long. This very instant we're reborn, though again to quickly die once more. So here we find two things that seem true, our own form not lasting, but something of us, aware, noting every change that passes, remains throughout it all. Are we than this awareness? Maybe. But this dismisses the changing world as well. My only answer is - I don't know. I have no certain answer. But for me, what feels true is this constant change, nothing I view is ever completely the same in this moment of viewing to the next, and this includes myself and this sense of awareness. They can't be separated. Stillness and motion are one. What I am is never to be repeated. It's also constant. Mostly - it's just a mystery. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

A Dialogue of Self As World (it's physics, it's jazz...)

a dialogue of self as the world - this conversation designed by appearance, everything simply a response to the original inquiry of asking who we are. Traced back to silence and our communication is resonance of one energy in the frequencies of infinite things. We really are just talking with ourselves, or truly one self with many, varied voices. I don't hear the hum of grass as it responds to the sweep of wind against it, nor the call of waters to the moon - yet to listen, attuned to my own silent song, there is always our harmonious connection. I am the chorus, many voiced, a song of my own that's carried as the world. It's physics, it's jazz, improvising to universal proportions. Welcome to this song, our song, performed always just as one. 

Infinite Compassion of Being

our compassion is as natural as the blooming of a flower - one bud giving way to a new becoming, then received fully by the sky. This is not a willful act, there's no defiant letting go to reach a state of blossom. It's simply life, the innate wisdom of a seasonal reach, everything surrendered in its own length of time. This is life displayed through infinite compassion, one appearance parting to the next order seen, a full embrace of exactly what is, even in the moment of its changing. We are no less seasonal, and life too offers us this same embrace - we are accepted exactly as we are, even through our moment to moment changing. It's what we are, life, in the infinite compassion of being. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Until The Very Moment That Unfolds

until the very moment that unfolds - and everything else is only speculation. Our certainty is misplaced outside of any immediate understanding, it's the feel of air against skin, a breath drawn and released as life, the simplicity of what's experienced right now. Nothing is beyond this, even our imagined time forward is just a thought found in this moment. So we see that no real effort is needed to be present, and no faith is given to what the future holds - this is always, only, exactly what we have, until we find ourselves with something other. Yet that too is found only in the very moment it unfolds - and never any sooner. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Remember Too, It All Belongs

and remember too, it all belongs - a tree isn't judged for the reach of its branches, nor are birds concerned for the weight of their flight. There is only the open acceptance of air, the sky in full allowing. So we find ourselves with the same clear nature, at times clouded with concern, perhaps judgement cast towards our own battle to belong - yet we are never closed to present moment understanding. That which occurs, is allowed, simply by virtue of its appearance. Nothing is excluded, and indeed, nothing can be. It all belongs. Our practice than is a quiet yes to all that's present, even as our sky clouds with every shout of not this, not this. No branch is refused. Our nature just allows. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Infinite Storm of Self and Rain

as for self, it seems to me to be as rain - no one drop could be called a storm, it's a gathering of the countless expressions of singular drops to reach the ground. There is a self that we experience, ten thousand raindrops as well as clouds and all that comes to make it rain. Yet it's not an experience of constant wetness, there's no storm apart from that gathering of singularities, and the surrounding space as important as each drops fall. In the end it's an event of mystery and grace, infinite components to bring a storm. And so we find ourselves as rain, individual drops expressed through the whole. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

It's Art - And It's What We Are

always from this moment, an instant of spontaneous becoming and just as soon departure - all that is now will never be exact again. We are in the midst of a dynamic flow of energy, more than joined, we are simply, only, that which flows. So too are we constant change as well than, a never to be repeated wonder of this moment. Our gift is to be aware, to somehow be observer of our own display of originality the frame of given time. This is all art, not from a singular perspective from an artist, but life in its own design of grace and play and magic. There is no one calling for life to be arranged, no brush stroke set apart from canvas, no word separated from pen and page, nor music heard that is not equal to pure silence - it's life itself, energy in creative motion with a seeming pause to note itself becoming. It's art - and it's what we are. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

In The Bareness of This Viewing

not always is our practice formal, lotus bound to mat, our minds anchored to a mantra or forced mindfully to the breath. Life itself presents to us all we need to reach a new perspective, relaxing into the present moment without a shift of mind. To be in nature, truly, as a participant of unfolding life - this is our true belonging. We see this is in observation of earth, sky, and all that lives upon and within. At no point does there come a separation of a tree branch reached through air, or a bird once landed on its limb, there is no existence seen apart from it all. This too is traced back to our own observation, our practice now is only seeing our essential belonging, on how we truly on witness from a silent mind, with a story falling always after. In the bareness of this viewing we now find ourselves as a witness removed, simply life itself joined whole in its unfolding. Our practice than - is always, only, seeing. 

Pursuit of Beauty

and so, for me, it comes to a pursuit of beauty, an attempt to capture this ephemeral moment with words given through some spontaneous fashion. There is only the intent to arrange what's received, patience awarded by a glimpse of something not quite yet told, and then my role to relay it to the page. It's all just a momentary truth, any art here is simply my translation of a wordless reality, never lasting past its reveal, and each word a mere souvenir of past beauty. In this sense, the beauty I speak of is not the flash of false notions, nothing that can be defined by tradition, nor given boundaries of a pleasing sign - no, this beauty is beyond compare, free of judgement, it's the depth of a reality that gives rise for comparisons to be. In truth, I don't pursue beauty, it's constant through every guise of what seems other - my only role is seeing, and letting beauty reveal itself completely in its own. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Aware - And Choiceless

aware - and to this we find ourselves choiceless in view of self and world. It's always a subtle moment afterwards that we bring the thought of our control, so quickly that we believe our demands met, and choices made by will alone. Yet everything can be traced to a spontaneous appearance, an absolute first becoming from what seems apparently nowhere at all. Of course there is an argument against this - and where too did this argument first arise? In the end it doesn't really matter, at least for me, and at least for now. I find myself aware, and life occurs in a play of events that call for my participation. 

I do my best to play along.

~

Peace,

Eric 

Seekers

and if we find ourselves seekers, even again after once leaving the search behind - it's just a distinction made in our natural inquiry of existence. a label similar to every other name assigned to actions we find ourselves pursuing. It simply doesn't matter. Without urgency, a seeker is than only an explorer of what the present moment holds. Is there truth here? Our inquiry is simply a means of seeing what remains after asking - the truth of a flower is as much told by earth, and reach of sunlight, the visit of bees to spread its pollen, seasonal shifts and changes that follow. We're not seeking answers to a final truth, but allowing what's true to reveal itself in the flowing story of a flower, or any other object that we view. Or even ourselves. Our own story is only true from moment to any given moment, as shifting and seasonal as any flower. Being a seeker is just a story we tell ourselves, a false distinction. Yet perhaps for just this momentary season - it's exactly where we are, and so we seek not answers, but simply for the sake of seeing. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

The Dance Alone

it's improvisational - life is one thing in full response to itself, an interaction of singular nature played through seemingly separate appearances. We could liken it to a dance performed by an artist who understands the importance of silence to notes heard, a dancer who is at once giving themselves to motion yet completely still at the same time. Or perhaps, better still, just a dance alone without the role of a dancer even needed. 

Simply life.

Motion.

And the spontaneous appearance of it all.

We are indeed, the dance

alone. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

It's Never, Not, Right Now

there is this moment, unique, and filled with distinctions only it may hold - and yet too, this moment flows eternal in that there is no point of separation, no break from now to any other thought of now, continuous in what it offers. There is no escape from the present, as even our recollections of yesterday and dreams into tomorrow are taking place only in this instant. Our role is not to keep the thoughts from wandering, but in being mindful of their return, or more exact, the always present moment of their return. 

It's never, not, right now. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

One and Only Moment of Awakening

just appreciate this, this sense of being, a moment where we recognize that yes, we exist, and more so we are aware of this existence. To know this - is our only moment of awakening, the simplicity of being alive, without effort to do more than draw breath, life functioning completely on its own, and that somehow we belong to this perfect order. Indeed, it's all a gift, and one received without request and given with a grace that needs no earning. Now, extending this, completely seeing that it all belongs together, that we are whole only because it's one existence - that's our one and only awakening. 

No matter how often it's repeated. 

~

Peace,

Eric