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
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