That We Know

That we know:

it's a certain kind of knowing, a way of perceiving more than information gained - it's how we truly see the world. This is the intimacy of experience, that we know the sun by the warmth of rays and reach of light, and rain by the fall of its expression. It's this way with everything we really come to know. Our experience tells the only true story. 

yet only in the moment.

and always after it seems we tell another story, one filled with a different promise than what occurred. Our story may by true on facts reported, but it lacks the magic of our knowing, we've lost the intimacy of first experience. 

that we know, aware, and always have this moment to inform - this is a gift, unearned and delivered by the grace at hand. Every moment tells us something. Life is constantly knowing itself through our senses. We perceive the secrets of the world, not through objects, but our relationship with what's perceived. With this we see there is no line of separation, our experience is only and always with an aspect of ourselves. What we know is true for us alone. 

but only because in this sense, there are no others, just life in perception of itself through the lens of infinite eyes, of one listening source, and senses intimately shared. This only this knowing, only life. That we know - is simply because...

we are.

~

Peace, Eric 

Question of Worthiness

Question of worthiness: 

it's never a question of worthiness, as if we couldn't belong in a world that includes all and everything without a single bias. We belong too, and more, we are equal in this welcome with every other aspect that's found here. Truly, if any one thing is welcomed than all must follow. There are no lines drawn in this inclusion, no true lines exist. 

everything belongs by virtue of existence. 

of course there are times, perhaps often, when we don't believe we're worthy - it's subtle distinction made between worth and our belonging. It's doubt. As if through infinite workings creation came to make this one mistake, that somehow we exist but don't belong. This is our belief in being separate from life, set apart as being special, and yet at the very same time to doubt our very worth. 

there's only life. 

once we see this, deeply see - there is no doubt that we belong and that our worthiness is beyond real question. We are life, an aware aspect of its totality. In this regard, we are no different than a flower, and there is no question of their worth. Nor of ours. 

our permission is to doubt, to ask the question of worthiness - it brings us back to our foundation, a return to simply being. Doubt shows us what we're not, and there's no escape from the conclusion of existence. We exist. To question why will never negate this. We exist because a flower does too, because the flow of life allowed for us to bloom. There doesn't have to be a reason. 

our bloom is worthiness expressed. 

~

Peace, Eric 

True Meditation

A moments true meditation:

to attend to my sorrows, allow my joy its time to be, and simply give space to what appears in life without need for immediate call to change - this is a moments true meditation, to just allow what is, right now, it's motion to unfold. 

this too includes my desire to escape certain moments, to avoid what comes through suffering, to leave unpleasant thoughts alone. I have no will to be stoic in all circumstances, and don't welcome any cause to suffer. There is a strong wish in us all to be happy, and keep the pain of life to some minimum that's easy to endure. 

so, I sit with this too, my moment of escape, allowing its fantasy to play its length, no wish to alter its appeal, nor push these thoughts aside. Everything settles in its own time. This isn't a test of my resolve. It's just sitting with what is, a non-interference to what the moment brings. 

what I find, sitting like this for some time, is that my life, aside from sitting, becomes a true meditation of its own. I am more responsive, and less reactive to what appears in life, a more subtle approach unfolds completely on its own. What I find is that everything belongs in its due time, and this includes my every thought and action. 

I find myself free. 

each moment is a true meditation, open, and allowing by its nature- my response is equal to this measure, belonging just as well and truly. There is no escape, and in someway I'm always sitting with what is, an attending presence that offers deep assurance. No one endures alone. This moment, no matter appears, is our connection. 

we all attend together. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Allow The World

Allow the world:

sometimes it's best to simply stay, to remain where we find ourselves now, and give in to restless ways that sway us with demands. There us not always a better place to be. Sometimes we don't have to do anything, allow the world to unfold here, exactly where we are. Our answers find us, not by travel, but in reveal of each moment, and always where we find ourselves...

now. 

 stay still, and by this one act we find that everything's in motion. Our true travel is here, chasing thoughts of something other than the experience of right now. This is why seekers never finds a lasting happiness until their feet are settled to the reality of this moment. The world is always here. right beneath our feet, through this view alone. 

there is nowhere else to be.

this is so even in travel, our every next adventure, and wherever we roam - our emptiness is never fulfilled by anything other than this moment. The world is here. This is where everything is revealed, every secret is whispered to listening ears - nothing needs to be pursued. Here, nothing is hidden, and more, there is nowhere for us to hide. Sometimes it's best to allow the world it's own way to find us, to stay one place for some time, no pursuit of anything at all, just sit, and see what arrives without chasing our demands. 

it's how we find ourselves, having never been lost at all, it's a settled look of reality, exactly where we are, and have always been. Here. Our always, only, place. 

home. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Of My Heart

Of my heart: 

a more natural compassion, one completely of my heart and derived from thinking - it happens on its own, spontaneous, and full of grace. This is not my action, not a chosen way of my behavior. It's what I am, what we are, each of us as an aware point of being. 

of course there is forgetting, as I often feel removed from my place of life, separate, and not belonging to the world. Yet it's always compassion that welcomes my return. There is no sense of wrong in this true home. Everything is welcomed, and more, cherished for belonging. 

yes, I judge, and hold strong opinion for what I see as wrong - this isn't a matter of the mind. It's the natural compassion of the heart, of simply being aware and allowing life to settle way. It's the tenderness of being myself and knowing there are no separate others, no one outside this point of caring. There is much of life that hurts, it's a continuous path of suffering, mending, and carrying on to the best I'm able. Through it all there the joyous occasion of sharing my heart, of tending to others even through my own distress. It's a shared life. 

it's of my my heart, always, just the natural compassion of how life unfolds. This isn't to cast a blind eye to when life seems to turn cruel. I am not unaware of hurt, nor infinite ways of suffering. Life holds it all. Nothing is denied. My compassion belongs to this, fitting as easily as every other way that life has come to be expressed. In truth, it's no my compassion, it's ours, it's life itself opening, opening, opening, a constant yes to all that occurs. The gift is this allowing, and it often breaks to the point of completely letting go...

and I find that I am open too, that only confines break, and that my life is really, only, motion. Compassion is this awareness. It's knowing the temporariness of everything, that life will break us all open, and that my heart aches in this awareness in same moment it seeks to mend. I am held in the natural compassion of true being. Everything belongs. It's how life happens. 

~

Peace, Eric 

More of A Remembering

 

More of a remembering:

sometimes it seems more of a remembering, a self, but only by recall - these are the moments when I find myself most at ease, perhaps immersed in some action that allows my focus to shift from a mind filled with my identity, and then continues in this allowing. It's not that thoughts end to a quiet mind, but that the silence was my present reality all along. 

more of a remembering, but seamless too - because in these moments I truly see that everything belongs, there is no self that exist apart from the silent present of its origin. My identity isn't an illusion, crafted from the thoughts of my experiences. Yet it isn't really true either and certainly not the truth of what I am. It's during these moments, a clarity of vision, where lines of 'either or' are simply left behind. What I am - is. It's easy enough, there's no battle of self nor illusion of a self. 

there's just being.

so what is that I remember? 

in these quiet moments, a meditation of sorts, I remember a self of high importance, that I believed myself to be the one who called the shots of life unfolding. It's not that some action pulled into a quiet focus that gave insight - but that I was/am immersed in the demands of my importance. My attention has found itself misplaced, given more fully to only one aspect of my being. 

it's really less of a remembering.

and just relaxing, allowing quiet moments to appear, insights gain, and the business of life to simply be. There's no real battle lines drawn, no battle at all, and no true lines to ever be drawn. There's only being. Only life and each moment that I'm given. Sometimes I'm caught up in remembering something that is already present to this moment. 

sometimes I find myself smiling at it all. 

~

Peace, Eric 

At Once

At once:

it's not just that we are joined common by existence, that we are known deeply as truly being one - but more so that we are really all at once. We are an occasion of this moment.

perhaps our better inquiry is in asking when are we? 

and the only answer leaves us here, now, that we are at once, and will only occur this present moment. This seems to be our true joining, brought to be through a joyous, spontaneous occasion of life right now. We are an occurrence, happening together. This leaves us without true time, no measure other than our own mark of passage, an illusion, and one that overlooks all that happens now. 

everything. 

it's all at once, life, a present happening, and this places us more as motion than any fixed span of a given time frame. Right now, we appear as form, life in firm display. Yet we are also a swirl of energy, formless, particles dancing in cellular union. Our dance is always now. But through this current happening, we shift in our appearance, dancing more as emptiness, until another swirl of motion brings a new expression. This is our occurrence, at once and always. 

we dance. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Not As Artist

Not as artist:

not once before, and never this again - each moment truly is an unique expression offered only in its motion, a continuous instant of becoming, receding, and shifting to a new display. This is the true art of the moment, life forever in creation, always presenting itself through means beyond our capture. Nothing remains the same, even for a fraction viewed of time. Through this, we see ourselves not as artist but a vital moment of life's display. 

what we are is a current brush stroke.

as well, we are every aspect of this creation, not removed from canvas, brush, nor unseen energies that direct the motion of each moments sure reveal. We live our lives as this expression, purist art, true only to an instant and then again creating something new. 

this is the gift of art in participation with itself, a conscious brush stroke, aware of its present motion, and that no mark left in its wake will ever be viewed again. There is no interest in our past work, only the moments display, and it's always now, life in arrangement of a brand new presentation. It's so fortunate to be this inspiration, to a process, creating with an instant wiped clean to only be inspired once again. This is no block to this, not a single point where are not the present moment of creation. 

so, yes, not as artist, but as total participants of creation - we are life in constant arrangement, a presentation so brief, but always continuous in its new offering. What we are is simply art, at once in process and display. 

a brush stroke stayed as motion. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Writing Itself

Writing itself:

not always translated - some things resist a poet's words. It's the experience that matters, and no retelling will even quite capture a moment gone. Yet writing itself provides a few transcendent moments of its own. Released from pursuit of what to tell, allowing myself as space to be found by words that wish themselves written - it all comes to be a perfect flow of listening, received by words, and the grace of fingers touched on keyboards. It's the experience itself, writing, and not a wish for anything beyond this moment. 

of course often there is a chase for words, a keen desire to write of something that is clearly wordless in its true encounter. Zen poets have long ago mastered the art of saying little with such impact, offering not so much a description but an encounter with the present moment, even as it was written long ago. A master's art is timeless. 

my goal is always simple, indeed, it's a wish for simplicity itself. I care about arrangement, that the gift of words, so purely given, should find themselves in certain order. I am less an author than one who arranges words on their arrival, listening to the sound they offer against of between. Every pause, each word, matters to my care, there is a trust to this arranging. 

my goal is to honor what arrives. 

and mostly it's always a surprise, that writing is its own agenda and belong to its expression - at best, in moments of that perfect flow, there is no true message, no experience to be told. It's the writing itself, from the first words dropped in silence, my smile, listening to their sound, and patience, however eager, to see what more (if anything) unfolds. 

it's the experience itself that matters. 

~

Peace, Eric 

What Appears

What appears: 

appearing - and this implies conditions met for some arrival, that an aspect of life shows itself when ready. What appears is spontaneous, and yet also the planned motion of the world. It's the grace of every season, and every moment contains its own spring through autumn, a bloom to later fall. What appears is always life in different view. 

we are appearing. 

as this is written, winter nears its end, shifting however slow to spring - trees appear without a leaf to offer, and yet even this is an illusion of waiting. Life stirs from root to branch, conditions move to the ready of a new appearance. It's an orchestra of nature without true plan, no grand conductor of events, but just life in the motion of arrangement. 

there is no clear line designed for seasons, right now is the appearance of winter, snow covered branches, sunlight dimmed by heavy clouds. Yet spring too is appearing in its earliest condition, a preparation for a different expression to be shown. It's subtle, and missed through the experience of cold, and the sight of barren branches. 

every appearance shows a moment of becoming.

what appears, now, and now again, complete only by its motion, and never able to be captured by our view. Everything is becoming through the ending of before, and each seeming transition is equal as its own appearance too. What truly appears, is only motion, life, continuous in what it offers. 

~

Peace, Eric 

To My Eyes

 

To my eyes:

of what's real, and yet as well might not be seen as true - my world is not as it appears to be. I hold many things as true and very little meets the standard of reality. To my eyes, the sky is blue, it's a never challenged certainty - but air itself is just transparent, an allowing space for the dance of sunlight. I see only what my eyes can comprehend. I see a truth in place of reality, both existing at once, and only one remains in the absence of my seeing. 

to my eyes the world is true.

that somethings are solid to my touch, hold a certain color, and exist for some particular purpose - I believe the world has meaning. This is true for me, my senses trust the world, navigate by sight, sound and feel. But again, this is my translation of reality, that I touch keyboards as I type instead of particles vibrating to space beneath my fingers. I'm typing reality on the truth of keyboards. Both are present and both allow me to assign meaning where it didn't exist before. 

to my eyes, it's a magical world.

how somethings appear, light dancing itself to blue, the life and reach of a tree contained within a seedling, myself in full awareness - what's true and real is always mystery. To my eyes it all comes as grace, from reality to a truth that I'm allowed to hold for a certain length of time. I take none of this for granted, humbled that my own form is too a temporary dance of light. I value my truth and live in awe to all that's real. 

to my eyes - it's all one thing. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Of Letting Go

Of letting go:

watching all that arrives, and all that goes - until even this is gone, and only the moment remains, with no observer to be found. It's the last of letting go, such a subtle presence, to be witness of my own awareness. Yet this too is just a hint of ownership, still a wish to claim a certain identity of a self that somehow stays apart from the world. 

this too will be let go.

it's not my surrender, it occurs completely on its own - just watch, it's all I do, watch, and see what comes to me, how the world arrives without my invitation. Of course it's only my thoughts of the world that arrive, life itself is here, immediate, and immune of my opinion. But I watch, and thoughts gather, I watch, patient, and then the world, each thought that holds it all together - comes to be let go. Everything is gone but the witness to this motion. This last thought of what I am remains. 

until it doesn't.

of letting go - it's not my willful action, just one last thought of me that lingered, grown faint, and then completely gone. If only for a moment. Nothing's really let go, another thought is all, and with this let go there is no witness, nothing left to be observed. There's only life, current, happening without care of observation. It all continues without me, without witness. 

but more, 

what I am continues too, active, a knowing motion - what I am is simply life, happening, aware, and sometimes with a thought of something more. It's not that I'm ever really gone from this, it's only this apparent self, the thought of me as even barest witness that's let go. 

it's the motion that remains. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Of Being This

Of being this:

of being this, with no pretense of being anything other than this very point of life - it's here, through each moment, that I find myself, my only true self. I am alive, drawing breath, and infinite cells providing function. I hear sounds that arrive to me. I see without effort to give form. There is nothing in any of this that is apart from me - from air that gives breath to the life of every cell, and further to the world I hear and see. It's all life. 

of being this, is somehow mystery too, that all that's gathered now in name and form is also found aware. I am an aspect of life gifted with a self reflected view, knowing myself as alive, temporary, and fragile in this individual note. My imagination wishes to be more, continued through some greater self. Yet reality shows me only life. Of being this. 

and truly that's enough, and clearly it's more than I really know - being this, right now, in no way discounts what may come and how mystery might unfold. My claim is life, aware, and this moment alone. I know that I exist and beyond this I have no hold on certainty. 

of being this, just life, and aware - and surely this is all the same. To say that I'm alive is to state myself aware, and this too is the value of simply being. None of this is to claim a title, that what I am is only one of these expressions, a grand awareness, or an aspect of life above all others. It's being this - and this includes, always includes. 

of being this - is my belonging. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Just An Allowing

Just an allowing:

just an allowing - and this seems to be the only real description I can give to reality, that life is always in motion, open, and allowing by its nature. It's a verb, there's nothing static of my world. This very moment silence parts to the grace of morning birds in song. Traffic sounds, but distant, occurs next, followed soon by a plane over head. Silence grants them all an equal moment through my listening, preference not considered. Every sound belongs. 

it's all the same allowing.

there's a subtle difference from acceptance, my own nod of recognition that I've come to terms with what appears or happens through my life. Acceptance assumes my participation, as if I have a certain say as to what may be allowed. It's the assumption of an I. But what's found with life is how little my say truly matters - what I find myself to be is an inclusion of it all, an aspect, with belief of more control than given. 

my true self is life, whole, and there is no line drawn in this allowing. Everything belongs by virtue of presence, what appears is of equal value to any other appearance found in nature. It's all allowed and this is so for my every experience, of I what I see, hear, and feel. There is no point to my acceptance other than the belief of my control.

life allows. 

this doesn't mean I'm not active in my participation, I'm fully involved with life, and could'd be removed by any means or effort. What I think and feel belong as much as any other aspect that appears. I honor my own small appearance here, the fragile nature of a self within the enormity of life. It's no different than a flowers early bloom, delicate in early spring and reaching for the sunlight. No petal is separate from stem, root, and further still the earth which holds. 

it's all just one allowing. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Life is Happening

Life is Happening:

nothing is really ever random - and there are no true plans as well. Life happens as a continuous flow, moments without a certain break. It's only through the stretch of time that events are seen with a lapse between them, that events exist at all is an illusion of sight and mind. Life is happening, now, and always it's motion, fluid, and what seems random is simply the mystery of its way. 

through this light, an insight of just this present moment - it's seen there is no ultimate plan, no map of spiritual evolution. We awake now. Aware. As enlightened as we'll ever be. And yet time will tell a different story, that we will awaken in some due order. How this mystery works, how the story unfolds, it's all beyond my understanding. I make no claim of knowing anything for certain. I'm just a storyteller too. 

but often there are glimpses, something true is peeked through - it's seen that life is always the story of now, with no one truly telling, just the story of this present moment. Life is happening. There is no plan, and what seems random fits perfect to right now. It's all simply one event, a verb really, life constantly expressing its sure meaning. 

and this is what we are, life, being expressed, always now. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Art of Dismissing

 

it's the art of dismissing, and of accepting what comes final - that I am reduced without concepts, no belief in any ultimate truth, nor sense beyond just being. And here, empty now of a life filled by illusions of my worth, everything belongs. This too, is the art of seeing, and what's been dismissed is seen in the light of its real belonging. 

emptiness allows for true value. 

and with no judgement, that I dismiss everything that appears, even my most treasured sense of who I am, and the thoughts of what I'll later be - it's all let go. So, too, my every belief of what I'm not. There's no use for any concepts now. What's left is just this moment, and anything described is already an addition to immediately be dismissed. 

there's just this moment now.

yet, here's my best description, that left alone, without my interference of beliefs - there's simply life, happening, a completion of it's own. There is a sense of self appearing, acting in a certain way, and ultimately no more lasting than the present birdsong being heard. There is no act of listening, no effort made to register this song, but it's received, a somehow grace of mystery. The listener has been let go, the seer dismissed, and the world appears by virtue of appearing. 

it's all that simple.

of course even this should be dismissed, none of it is really so, only a description by a phantom self and one that's already been let go. This is the art of living, of allowing, and no practice is really needed for life to continue in its flow. All art is of the present moment. What's dismissed is already past and gone even in the moment of my recognition. This is the art of being present, nothing truly needs to be dismissed, and nothing can added that doesn't already now belong. I am always present, always here, and fully within life's flow. 

being. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Momentary Seasons

Momentary seasons:

it's just one surrender, constant, one moment instant to the next without struggle, nor interference. This is the rhythm of life in momentary seasons, from patterns experienced as changing weather, to the infinitely small letting go of all that makes a moment. 

life continuously gives way. 

so everything is its own momentary season, a pattern too of what seems a beginning and coming to an end. Yet, perhaps it's all better seen as shifting presence, of one essence, life, simply in a change of its expression, nothing truly surrendered but its own appearance of before. 

seasons aren't divided through any clear lines, no particular mark between life in bloom and its later surrender. It all just happens, no seasonal command, but wisdom displayed through its continuation. We don't find ourselves removed from this either - our life is a constant letting go and coming to a brand new order. We have our own momentary seasons, a pattern within the greater pattern of it all, entwined, and continuous too in some way. 

even now we're in surrender.

this is our promise, that we follow life through every pattern, momentary seasons adding to a well loved life. It's what we surrender to, it's our bud and bloom. Our seasons are constantly displayed, what we are now already to the point of being let go - we are committed to this promise. From this moment now, this surrender...we also bloom. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Aliveness

Aliveness:

this aliveness, unique to my expression, and yet belongs to all the world. It's a shared vibrancy, life in essence not divided to each of us. Just life. This is one soul, that which courses through us all, everything, from smallest details of cells that form our bodies, to distant reach of every star. 

it's the same aliveness. 

and more than our connection, it's an extension of ourselves, one thing living through distinction expressions. There is nothing that truly divides us, we are joined as breath with common air, an infinite trade of atoms with everyone who's ever lived before. 

even space is shared.

where it seems our reach ends, the world begins in intimate fashion, we touch the very vibrancy of life with every stretch and hand we wave. There is no point where any line is truly drawn between us, and any space that appears as distance is filled the aware sense of this aliveness. It's all recognize as belonging here, arising through this shared existence. 

there are few things to say with certainty - but we deeply know that we're alive, and that life itself is not exclusive. We know this aliveness as what we really are, and everything else is philosophy easily dismissed through the simplicity of living. We are certain that we exist. Nothing needs to be added to this realization. This aliveness, life, is what we hold certain. 

~

Peace, Eric 

No Certain Way

No certain way:

there is no certain way, at least not one that can be told - and so to debate an issue of existence, to prove emptiness of self, or any ultimate sense of being, is futile argument at best. My preference is simply seeing and to rest within what happens. Here, this seeing, everything belongs, self, as well as selfless of design. This is life at center, direct, and my experience of being. 

it's free of concepts to debate.

of course this could be argued, but that would only add to the point of my experience, just one more event that happens through the flow of life. It would only be another view offered to the singularity of seeing. There is really nothing that needs proven, and no debate proves a certain way. Only the language of being differs, the experience itself remains the same. 

the language I prefer is from the Headless Way, of pointing directly to the source of seeing and simply resting in what's found. For me, this removes all concepts, as well as providing room for concepts to be. Everything belongs here, and I find myself in the direct experience of life, aware, emptiness fulfilled through the service it provides. 

there's no debate to Being. 

so I find myself with a method, a certain way to take to the point where there is no certain way of being - it's pointing directly to this moment. Once I see, no method is really needed. Seeing is always complete, free of dogma, and available now. I enjoy the method, of pointing to the world and tracing it back to the point where I find myself aware. But it's not the only way, and it offers no argument as to what is found within this seeing. 

it's just pointing. 

everything else is now let go. 

~

Peace, Eric 

No Final Witness

No final witness:

and not to find myself as any final witness, one more stage that needs to be let go - it's all much too seamless for this, direct, that it's simply life in current participation, aware, and without separate observation. 

one thing. 

really, I'm without explanation, poetry failed in any true reveal - mystery always escapes description and what I come to tell is of experience alone. It won't truly be captured through words. Of course nothing ever is, and that's the tragic beauty of every writers effort. 

but there's grace in trying. 

so, here's my effort - that at a certain point of contemplation there seems to be a witness to the world, an observer thought to be removed from what's observed. It's only a degree of separation, a belief that perhaps I'm at the level of soul, a certain mystic point of view. It's a wonderful place to be, finding myself in but not of the world. I've reached one more level of my spiritual education, an achievement of a certain goal. 

awake at last.

yet there is no final witness, indeed, no witness here at all. It's only one more point in my surrender, a concept so thinly veiled it almost escapes detection, believed to the absolute of pure awareness. But even this comes to be let go, and through no effort of my own. I am not the one to choose surrender. It all happens on its own. Or perhaps better said, nothing happens, not really - it's just that everything collapses, beliefs, witnessing, and any concept of separation. 

there's only life, happening. 

this doesn't remove me from the world, it doesn't eliminate "me" at all. It just shows that life is seamless, continuous even without the thought of myself as present. Not even as a final witness. Is this the last point of awakening? No, it's the end of any point at all. What happens next, is what happens. There's always grace and mystery. 

~

Peace, Eric 

An Aware Function

An aware function:

that I am functioning, and at every level this is so - from a cellular point to the exchange of breath and air, everything functions as the whole, complete, as if the world's a larger body still. But what I truly find myself to be is an aware function, an aspect that knows something of itself, a seamless piece of the whole somehow awakening to it all. 

it's seeing myself as life, and by this I mean the soul of living things, that underlying expression that animates from cells to stars. This isn't some mystical life force, it's not a hidden essence, but simply life in the complexities of its flow. Of course to find myself part of this, and more a function that is aware of itself in such a unique and individual way - is indeed mystical and hidden too from my understanding of why this is so. 

I only know myself as life. 

so this all seems to be a great functioning, not really parts, it's all too seamless to broken in such ways - life is no organic machine that grinds on for its own completion. There's something magical here, and that I am an aware function seem greater than an accident. Perhaps every cell has it's own awakening and this is just my moment. It all functions too beautifully, perfectly, for me to be surprised. 

to only know myself as life is an epiphany in few words, right here and written now is my great secret - myself, as life, and somehow I've come to know. Anyway the words come to be arranged it's so. I am the whole, functioning in small order. I am an individual, an aspect of life, working through the completion of it all. It's all the same thing. And of this..I am function, found aware. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Versions of What Is

Versions of what is:

it's not for truth, although once I believe my search as so defined, but that reality itself seems to hold versions of what is truthful through various circumstances and the observers state of mind. No one holds an ultimate truth, and there is no point of final understanding. I am my own living reality, truth told through moments of direct experience and only then let go. 

each moment holds a slightly different version of what is.

this isn't a claim of nothing being true, or that aspects of reality can't be explained - this is my own philosophy of thought, another version told. Yet certainly I've found no permanent truth to hold to, my life life has proven to be nothing more than a shifting point of view. What was once believed as gospel now seem naive. My truth has grown in its capacity of discernment, that a description of any event, or object belongs only to the moment it occurs or is witnessed. 

truly, I know nothing beyond the present moment. 

but I navigate life as if I do, holding certain to my daily reality, of what is seen, and feels real. This is a helpful version of truth. I know the sun will rise in the east, my day begins with the sureness of this ritual, my every sense tells this is so. This an appearance of truth. Of course reality is the rotation of the earth. 

what's true comes to me in layers.

and even insights and sudden revelations only show a layer to my mind - if I wait, deeper still in silence, there comes the calm of letting even them go by. I have no need to know anything as certain. As everything is, I too am defined by layers. What I am, my truth, final or otherwise, we never fully be revealed. 

at least not in this version told. 

~

Peace, Eric  

Simplicity of Its Meaning

Simplicity of this message:

it always comes to the simplicity of seeing, the grace found through my own clear perception - life has no hidden agenda, no message writ in stars, nor text found holier than my own true seeing. Life itself is the simplicity of its meaning. 

my only role is to live.

and this seems so obvious, an easy role to fill - life presents itself for my participation, and I am happy to be alive. Yet somehow it all becomes complicated, a search for some higher meaning, a sense of lack that needs to be fulfilled. It's living with a purpose other than my own true call to simply be alive. This isn't a call to abandon any pursuit, nor to give up the trappings of a finer life. Simplicity is found through every moment, an easy recognition of what belongs, and there is no need to go beyond the clearness of this seeing. 

everything belongs.

it really is as simple as that, knowing that everything belongs in the moment of its appearance, and that no struggle will keep things any longer, nor cause them to leave sooner than their time. So too, are my actions found true to this belonging. There's no contradiction. It's my own inclusion to each moment, my response as fitting as any other aspect to appear. It's seeing that I belong as well. 

my only cause is a life of simplicity, of allowing and being allowed - it's an easy sense of being, not avoiding any complications of a regular life, but knowing that it all unfolds in the only fashion that it will, and that my response fits within this order. It's a seamless flow. Everything belongs. There is no greater cause than this moment found alive. 

~

Peace, Eric 

With True Kindness

With true kindness:

not just a mere display, but from the depth of who we are - it always comes to kindness, acting to the best interest of the one. Indeed, with true kindness it's seen that no action stands apart from the whole, everything is a self response of compassion. 

this isn't a call to be kind, to believe a certain way is better for us all. No, this is to see beyond the surface action, a deep response of how all of life unfolds. And it always flows with kindness. This is a radical shift of view from what is seen as a sure display of cruelty. Life often seems unkind. This isn't an argument otherwise - but only that there's another way to see the world. 

to be kind is not given to choice, it's action without the role of anyone who would choose, a response of natural favor. True kindness is the reality of reality - of how silence parts for the emergence of sound, a cooperation of light to lend itself as form, of every aspect of life action for the benefit of continuing as the whole. 

kindness is the interest of one.

and this comes to how we treat each other, that as first view we believe ourselves separate from each other, action for benefit of ourselves alone. Yet we are no different as the examples above, just as seamless as light and sound. Our kindness comes from deep allowing, that we exist in shared surroundings of common air and similar breath, one reality cooperating for out own continuation. There's no one choosing any of this, and no one to deny our single bond. Life is our best interest, our only reality, and it's this that flows in true kindness. 

it's what allows us all to be. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Always Sincerity

Always sincerity:

as to sincerity, it's our own natural wonder, innate, and without need of cultivation. What we are is truly revealed through the forgetfulness of daily armor, and the roles we've long played. Our first state is always sincerity. It's our original innocence. 

to this end, it's who we are, sincere from first beginning and continued on through every aspect of our living. Yet sometimes it's forgotten, or purposely neglected. Life has a tendency to wound, and with few scars we've learned to cover our real nature. But in truth, our openness is our best protection. Here, we only touched by love, beyond the reach of what might wound, and it's here we come to heal.

Our sincerity doesn't shield us from the world, no, in truth we open more fully to it all, unafraid to at times be fearful, to know we might hurt for a thousand different reasons. Through our openness, we are joined as life, no aspect foreign, and without need to be protected. 

everything belongs.

sincerity is who we are when we're not pretending to by anything other than what we are right now - and this always remains life, the simplicity of just being. To be sincere, is to live life by what each moment offers, responsive, and unafraid to be vulnerable, open, and creative. This is simply offering ourselves fully to the world...

sincerely. 

~

Peace, Eric 

To Forgive

To forgive:

to forgive, and really this is just a moment born anew - reality itself only accepts and continues on in motion. We are not separate from this action, each moment accepted for what it is present, and our life too goes on without holding to the past. 

forgiveness is the simplicity of being present.

and there is nowhere else that we could ever be - right now, without memory to serve us, there is no true grievance that doesn't belong directly to this moment. What's done is left to pass. Yes, of course our hurt remains, there is no sense to deny our present pain. Yet forgiveness recognizes our lives as motion, that we are given a constant new beginning, every moment, through everyday. 

to forgive isn't an act of forgetting, nor a divine art of letting go - it's always, simply, a return to this moment alone. It's a recognition of where we're are right now. We forgive - only to return to each present moment. This is where peace is found, our renewal, here, and no effort is needed to be exactly where we are. 

we are always here.

so forgiveness happens on it's own, everything else is only rituals, a performance for our heart and minds. Sometimes we may feel that is necessary, some action needed to convince ourselves that the past is left behind. We do what helps us feel more present. But the truth is, we are never more present than right now. Only the mind teases that we could be somewhere other. Only the mind believes of our return. Forgiveness is our anchor to the moment. 

it's a ritual of returning. 

here's an inquiry for any grievance - what's found right now? Our hurt and suffering are certainly real and have deep value. No one should diminish another's pain. But right now, for just this moment, what truly belongs? Our forgiveness doesn't ask for us to do anything other than deal with what belongs, to tend to our present hurt, and allow life to mend through motion. We don't forgive others, nor past events - it's always, and only, about this one tender moment. 

it's about healing, and love. 

and it's always for ourselves alone, not for selfish reason, but because in this moment of forgiveness - there are no others to be found. We forgive, for our own true healing. This is where our inquiry leads us, back to life and the motion that it offers. Right now, forgiveness gives us freedom. We leave the past behind. The ritual is over, no longer needed. 

forgiveness is itself the present moment. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Repetition of Similar Play

Repetitions of similar play:

through each day it's the repetitions of events that earn us life, from breath to heartbeat it's the rhythm of our personal day, and on a larger scale our lives are the product of the earth's repeated turns. We live according to these patterns, repetitions of similar play. 

and yet, such subtle difference through each event - of every breath drawn, every heartbeat, is born only to this moment. No repetition is the same. This is the vibrancy of living, that from the very end of one repetition, something new is born, 

it's all continuation. 

through this we find a certain meaning, to observe motion in its infinite play - that there is beauty found in what ends as a cherished holding, our letting go belongs equal to the grief of loss, it's all now seen as one great continuation. 

there are no true endings. 

it's all repetitions, life through display of it's continuation. We are given this as opportunity, to be witness of the subtle aspect of what's so often seen familiar. No breath is ever breathed again, it's always the new air of another moment. Our every heartbeat brings potential, there's now freedom to explore, to join the world in motion. Each repetition of the familiar delivers a spontaneous moment never before revealed, and not once to be given again. 

even through what's repeated- mystery still remains. 

~

Peace, Eric 

True Worship

True Worship:

it's true worship, one found without object to direct our veneration. This is wide open, spaciousness in awe of the form that it becomes, and what seems solid to allow itself to be defined by this seamless hold. It's a religion of one, everything in true worship of itself. 

this is simply nature, life without interference of how we believe the world should be. It's how a bud has full trust that its bloom will be received, the sky impartial to the flower to be given. There is nothing but welcome. True worship means to hold the world as its been given, as well as our own wish to offer change. Nature has its own intent, devoted to its continuation. This too is our own belonging, to find ourselves in the flow of life's expression. 

our own bloom will always be received. 

to worship, truly so, is not to find ourselves less in anyway - it's to find our own reflection through all the world offers and be reverent to this sacred view. It's an equal holiness, seamless, of how the view appears for the pleasure to be seen, and we offer ourselves, aware, as witness to its gifts. 

it's all true worship. 

~

Peace, Eric