Every Revelation

Every revelation: 

every revelation is our own, each insight is a personal epiphany and not given from another - and yet it's all shared as well, delivered through any means possible, books, teachers, nature. Everything serves to point to our connection. 

but only when the moments right.

it seems that we arrive at some place of readiness, an inner shift that parts some secret veil to a more subtle way of knowing. Perhaps it's simply grace, life, and we find ourselves open and present to the world in a way we've never imagined before. 

it's was life that brought us here.

nothing is really given, and truly there is no arrival - for the mystery of a reason there is clarity, an insight gained through a moment spent in nature, or single word spoken. It doesn't matter, what we see now has always been present, nothing's changed about the world but our perception. 

we're seeing.

of course, as so often the case, when we see the world as open, thoughts rush in to fill the void, ideas are formed, philosophies made. We trade revelations for fantasies, insights for a familiar way of thinking, and clarity for clutter. We fill our openness with personal demands of how we wish to see the world. If we're fortunate, lucky, we let this pass too. Clarity is seeing that everything belongs but nothing is lasting. Be patient with revelations - the truth is found in passing. 

every revelation is our own - and yet what we see is a common world of grace, and light, and our shared open nature. We see life in degrees of form and beauty. It's one belonging, one world, life. It's simply seeing, again, who we really are. 

~

Peace, Eric 

To Share

To share:

just my wish is to share - and yet I find that this isn't shareable at all, not even with myself. It seems there's only experiencing, a moment and whatever happens to occur. Nothing can be shared but a description, a memory, and that's all an experience of its own. Truly there are no past experiences, there's what's happening now, each moment, already and always changing. 

it's that I belong fully to the experience, not as observer, but participant, an active belonging and it's only for the moment itself. I'm part of this motion, changing too with variable that occurs. Who could I possibly share this with that doesn't already belong as well? 

and so there's just experiencing, nothing apart from this, everything intricate, yet more subtle too - everything in an intimate display of life, one energy in constant flow, and nowhere am I found separate from this at all. There's just this, and any sense of self, any claim as witness, is involved within and as the whole.

 experiencing. 

what I share is an opportunity of now, this experience of our together found through words, a present moment that holds a description of before. It's ours, one energy, now. 

Peace, 

Eric 

Without Certainty

Without certainty:

without certainty, and more, it's being free of any need to know my thoughts as certain - my beliefs are held lightly, entertained by curiosity and valued for the service they provide, for how they help me navigate the world. Yet nothing is thought to be permanent, and no belief treasured to the point of rule. My wish is to know myself as open, transparent to my own seeing, to view the world through the mystery that it offers. 

free of my demands.

for me, this is the first and true gift of seeing, that I can retrace the world to its empty point of origin, and find the innocence of my own first glimpse of it all. It's seeing the world new again, and every time I wish too. Nothing has to be believed with this, no aspect of the view is forced with any certainty - everything simply is, everything is present, and without need of any confirmation.

the view alone exist.

to say I come to emptiness is misleading, as well as any claim that the world is solid and full of meaning. Seeing only reveals itself, existence without pretense, my own first and only view. It's my original innocence returned, and never to be absent again. The view is always available, immediate, and only calls for seeing. 

without need for any certainty.

~

Peace, Eric 

Because Life

Because life:

because life knows - at least this is my easy answer, that life is intelligence itself, and flows with its own course of wisdom. It's my answer for mystery, for my own wish to know why events turn to sudden fortune or sometimes great pain. But no answer can escape mystery, there is no real comfort to assign a greater meaning to the world, nor to give purpose to a higher sense of being.

it's life that knows.

this is the wisdom found in nature, innate within seedling to bud and the knowing of its bloom - everything has its own place and reason, its own response to what the present situation holds. It's how life unfolds, seamless, infinite patterns of events within events. Life knows continuation, it knows motion, seasons, and the play of time. 

life knows itself.

and this is why it's an easy easy answer, satisfying even in its simplicity - because life knows and there too is my own point of being. I know myself as life, perhaps a more sophisticated seedling now in present bloom. But always life, always nature. It's only complicated when I set myself apart, an imagined entity outside the course of life, full of demands and shouting out for answers. 

but that too has its season. 

nothing is apart from life, and I am not excluded from any aspect of it's flow - because life knows, than I know too that I belong through the entirety of its journey. It's not answer, mystery has no concern of my demands. It's just knowing, belonging, an easy way of seeing how each moment simply follows the next in it's intricate design and that am part of this intricate pattern of being. 

because life knows - I am. 

~

Peace, Eric 

All Appears

All appears:

it all appears spontaneously, everything - each morning I awaken to an entirely new world, from eyes closed to sudden appearance, and even the familiar is subtle in its changes, never quite the same with every view. Life arises, free of the burden of meaning, and it's only by assigning a certain sense of purpose does it seem to become mundane. 

everything appears as mystery.

and I include myself in this, that every night there is a forgetting of the day before, my own self lost to a depth of slumber. The only experience is one of nothing, and until I awaken, or move to a state of dreaming - I am absent from existence. Yes, there is a heartbeat, and still a lightness of the breath, but there is no one present to experience them. It's life happening on its own, without my conscious, willful participation.

until I awaken. 

it's with this that I claim the world - it's my heartbeat, and my breath taken and released. Everything becomes mine. Yet what I miss is how this sense of self arises with the morning, it's my own dawn of becoming, that from the depth of nothing another day appears, and somehow I am there to give it welcome. 

and more so, and again, it's all spontaneous - no reminder is set for a self to appear with every morning, I simply find myself here, present and aware. Such an easy gift of being. So I find that life for me is free of the burden of any true meaning - at least until a meaning comes to me, arriving in the same spontaneous fashion as everything else that appears. With this freedom comes the creativity of response, with each arising there's an entirely new way to view the world. It's not my freedom, nor my creativity in response - it's the spontaneous arrival of right now. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Experiencing

Experiencing:  

always of the moment, experiencing - and this how life flows, and I'm included through it all. It's really that simple. This is the suchness of the Buddhist expression, that each moment is unique, yet not apart from the length of our existence, and that what occurs, the experience, is not separate from my awareness. Indeed, to even be aware is part of this, it belongs as experiencing itself, just another aspect to this flow, life in conscious wonder. 

what I've found, through a lifetime of claiming events as my experience, and noting myself as aware, conscious of what' happening - is that this too, this observer, is simply part of the experience as well. There's only experiencing, life, and the one who claims to be witness is only an aspect in what's occurring. 

my true self, is of the moment. 

and this true self is changeable, unique as every moment too. 

but it's never set apart as some silent observer to events, it's not the ultimate witness that survives these passing moments. My true self belongs as life, aware, and somehow able to know that this is so. This self is experiencing, always present tense, always belonging to the moment now at hand. It's in no way separate from the event of life itself. 

it- is.

and it's constant, life refusing to be defined as anything but motion. How could I belong to this and claim myself as anything static, or any any final sense of being true at all? To be free is to be motion, the course of life, and the realization that even stillness allows itself as movement. 

my true self - is right now.

experiencing.

~

Peace, Eric 

My Inquiry

My inquiry: 

really, it's not my inquiry at all, just a gentle exploration of each moment, and not as a quest to find a special place of origin, nor even seeking any kind of truth - but simply to see what the present now holds, how the world comes to me in motion, an effortless flow that somehow arrives immediate to my senses. There's nothing to pursue. My inquiry is always here. 

this too is without questions, I have no need to ask anything of myself as far who I am, or if I have a certain reason for being here at all. Life provides itself as presence, and I've found that every question leads me directly here - with or without an answer. 

it's a simple means, without a real method, and always available - each moment I am amidst in every aspect of life. There is no line of division between what's occurring now and my experience of it, there is no point separate from my senses to the world. 

there's just life. 

yes, I could question this, inquire into the reality of my every situation - yet no answer would be as satisfying as the simplicity of living. To ask "who am I?" is a regression that leads to nothing. But there is still the experience itself, whatever is occurring, and there are the pleasures of life, as well as all the sorrows. Anything may appear for the sake of this experience. 

and that's how life continues. 

so my inquiry is really, only living. Life provides it all, from questions to the need of even asking - and the answer is always, exactly, what's occurring now. 

life, being experienced.

~

Peace, Eric 

Our Dialog

Our dialog:

that it appears to be so - and for the moment, that's the only answer to be given, that what occurs now, and my perception of it, is all that I can know until the moment changes. My faith belongs to motion, and not to any past occurrence no matter how profound. What appears right now, to this moment alone, carries the weight of my experience and validation. 

of course the past has value, but its substance is gone, and the memory of it's existence will only occur now. There is no experience of a past moment. None. There's just what's appearing in the present moment and this is what I base my perceptions on. 

just now.

and this is why every argument and debate by others fail to entertain my attention. It's my experience of present moment details that shape my understanding. What appears to me, in any sense of reality or truth, is only what I can perceive right now. It's my own understanding. And it will change when something new appears, as the moment shifts in revelation, and perhaps a greater insight too. Until then, this is what I have, and my experience is enough for me to know.

yet, I do appreciate people sharing and in it's in this same light that I offer my own views - someone else's insights will become my own in a true exchange of views. I will experience, through a personal way the thoughts that others offer and once these words are read - they belong to the reader, it's their experience of what's now been written. 

in a sense, this our dialog, my experience of writing shared as an appearance that belongs to the reader, until this moment too is gone. 

nothing appears to us forever.

what appears this moment, thoughts, insights and things of value - are unique to me, as they are for each of us alone. No one has the right to argue this away. I accept ideas as an experience, without argument if they belong, or fit my personal view. What other's bring is part of this appearance, an important aspect of the moment. 

but all I ever truly know...is my experience of right now.

~

Peace, 

Eric 

Our Own Sargasso

Spontaneous in appearance: 

it seems Aristotle studied the eel in depth and came to the belief that it was a species not born of its own kind, but arrived through some spontaneous appearance, complete, yet in early stages of the eel it would grow to be. Of course he was wrong in this conclusion - but only in a certain way. 

everything is spontaneous in appearance.

eels are mysterious, a traveling creature of great distance, and from a world away they once again return to their place of birth, the Sargasso sea. and complete their life cycle. No one knows exactly why, their sudden urge to mate, give life, and only in the great sea of their origin. 

the world is full of such magic. 

our own lives are just as magical and come from mystery too - we appear as spontaneously as Aristotle's eels, conscious, complete in our potential. Our start is emptiness, with no appearance of a self, nor note of present form. But somehow, here we are. We have our own Sargasso sea, the emptiness of our origin, it's call for our return. Our lives are lived through its presence, and unlike the eel, we never stray at all. Our return home is made through seeing, to recognize that we emerge from emptiness to form but never truly leave it behind. We're a spontaneous appearance, as mysterious as any eel, navigating through the world of form. At some point, the sea always claims its own. 

and that's how we awaken, just as spontaneously - the sea appears again, we find ourselves amidst an emptiness that is really not void, but teeming with a world potential. Everything comes from this, stays in its inherent formless nature, and wakes to its presence all along. 

the Sargasso is our present moment. 

~

Peace, Eric 

My Preference

My preference:

my preference is seeing, the simplicity of everything found belonging to the view, and not even the seer is excluded, nor made to be anything other than scenery as well. There are no true lines to cause division, and no argument as to what belongs. Seeing settles any discord and it's always present to resolve any philosophical debate - capacity and form are one, arising at once, and always this moment. There is no need to claim anything other than this seeing. 

this settles any question of if there is a self, or if suffering belongs at all - everything is allowed to happen, and what appears is cherished through this capacity to hold. Through seeing, I see no reason to deny what comes to me, and of course this includes a personal sense of self. If it's present - it belongs, for at least the moment of its appearance. 

much of this is argued, and again it's only my preference - but seeing provides me the endless inquiry of what is, an exploration of the present world without need of Himalayan mountain, guru, nor method passed from an ancient time. I have it all here, seeing, and the mystery that arises.

it's only my preference, and seeing makes no demands to be right, proven, nor exclude what others have found. That there is debate is simply another moment that comes to view, an arising of words and opinions to be heard. There is no cause for me to add my own opinion, to make my preference one and all. Again, everything belongs. I am happy to just see, to listen, and be at ease within this great allowing. Nothing more is ever asked of me. 

here is is, how to see is easy - in the absence of seeing our own head, sincerely, innocently looking towards ourselves, what's found? 

~

Peace,

Eric 

To Just Not Know

To just not know:

to just not know, from next thought, to what any further moment holds - the world unfolds as mystery. This is my start point, my retreat from all beliefs held certain, and life again proceeds from here. It's not that I dismiss any knowledge gained, but that I hold it all, every cherished belief I own, as subject to a changing world. 

for me to claim any truth to mystery is a false stance of certainty. 

to just not know - and it's from here that life creates itself, each moment free in its expression, no guess as to what word appears next. What I write is always mystery, fiction, and never quite the same. Even a familiar topic comes in new light and understanding. 

it's seeing each moment as an entire revelation, that there is no pre-design laid out before me - and that it's all a creative endeavor happening now, always right now, without a true knowing of how it will unfold. To just not know is an open future, uncluttered by belief, free of all but possibilities. 

what's seen, the momentary revelation, is always more of mystery. 

no great truth is given completely, uncertainty belongs to what follows, and this is the promise of emptiness that stays before every next word. I just don't know what will be written, more mystery always comes with what arrives. That's the creative edge of every moment, only a little shown and the infinite always present, mystery always just ahead. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Subtle Difference

A subtle difference:

it's a subtle difference of knowing - from a claim and followed explanation, to the simplicity of being of the experience itself, immersed, and no words will offer justice later. Even poets fail, forced to metaphors that still only touch a certain level. Yet an artist tries because there is a knowing, something spoken from the depth that's eager to come through. 

what comes from here needs no explanation. 

and perhaps it's more true to say an artist doesn't know, and here it comes to that sublet difference - that there is really, only, the experience alone, with no one there to claim it. Great art is of the moment, an artist disappears into the unknowable landscape of right now. Indeed, it's here that nothing can be known, with no direction of brushstroke, or poets next word, but only the doing itself, art in self-creation, and only after does an artist appear. 

in this sense, the subtle difference is that there is no one present to truly know each moment. There's only the story told after. No one knows how life will be directed, of how infinite matters coincide, unfolding every instant. We live in mystery. 

we live as mystery. 

of course, again, these are just words written from the moment - from the very start I was doomed to fail in explanation offered. Yet I've enjoyed my moment here, an allowing instant of the mystery, without guess to any words that may appear. There was just writing, an easy happening of its own, without need to know of any theme, nor wish to offer meaning. 

just words.

and that's the subtle difference. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Through Devotion

Through devotion:

it's through devotion - that by nature I serve in endless capacity, empty, yet instantly fulfilled. As openness, I am devoted to every varied form, the detail of each appearance of the world. Through form I owe existence to what allows, spaciousness, and my seamless trade between the two. It's self, in devotion to the selflessness of its nature. 

one thing, truly. 

this is my own meaning of the Heart Sutra, that emptiness is willing to lend itself for my appearance, and yet my existence remains true to the formlessness that allows my world to be. It's the devotion of one thing, reality in constant answer of its own prayer to reach fulfillment. To know I am this answer, that I have somehow been prayed into existence from the formlessness of before - there is no question of my devotion. 

so too, I know I am deserving - there is no question of worth, I am deserving by my very nature, by simply being here at all. This is a worth that comes without cause, nor reason, life itself without need for self-reflection. Everything simply is, alive, and for its own sake and meaning. My devotion is to this, to this aliveness both seen and unseen. It's too for my own self in every form, and too to the formlessness of my existence. 

it's simply gratefulness to be alive. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Small Joys

Small joys:

those small joys, existing for just their moment and then gone - yet somehow they are lasting too, or at the wonder of their appearance, that something arises without notice, spontaneous, and there is a depth of joy so surprising in its touch. It's a moment of the soul. 

for me, there seems no other way, no better way, to describe it - that by soul I mean the union of the world, life, just before we identify as an individual self. Those small, joyful moments, are just a forgetting of ourselves, a subtle recognition that we belong to something larger than the ordinary, or perhaps a reminder still that there is no ordinary world. 

this soul is life, simply life, with nothing added on - indeed, nothing truly can be added to what is already, and always found inclusive. Everything belongs. It's those small joys that remind me of this, to hold a flower in view is to see to the very soul of the world, and more, it's seeing that there is only this, only soul and nothing more. 

these moments are spontaneous in their appearance, and I find myself a surprised participant when they arise. Every small joy vibrates as soul, a reminder of my seamless nature. I give myself complete to these joys, abandoning all but what the moment holds. Yes, every experience passes, no joy is meant forever, but something does linger a little longer. It's not the experience, nor memory of its presence - its soul existing as it all, everything, and that these moments, small and larger joys, are all simply, only, aspects of the whole. 

~

Peace, Eric 

We Bring Meaning

We bring meaning:

we bring meaning to the world - of all the beauty and every note of inspiration, it belongs to us alone. So as well do we assign our passions, from hatred to our deepest love. The world itself remains empty of our concern, content to its motion, turning without resolve. It's to this that we bring our demands and wishes, our sincere desire for a well loved world, and anguish when it fails in our expectations. 

we bring meaning to the world. 

inherently empty, and by this it's simply seen that nothing stands apart from anything else - that a flower is still earth and the air if its surrounding, that every petal belongs, and the stem holds the point of its connection. Everything counts, and nothing by itself contains a flower. Through life and essence - it simply is. 

until we perceive it's beauty, it's emptiness fulfilled with a purpose never held before - joy, an offering from ground, sky, and countless rains and days of sun. We are blessed from bud to bloom. It's our meaning here, we've come to emptiness with our own intent and brought beauty to the world. To find things in a meaningless way is of our design for our perception. 

this is our joy, our beauty, shared by grace through every flower - we are joined in this experience, life giving meaning to itself in every way. Emptiness is full of the possibilities of existence, each moment another world created through our senses, and then vanished through the experience of something new presented. It's just life in re-creation. 

of course this - is nothing more than the meaning that I offer. 

~

Peace, Eric 

To Share

To share:

to share this seeing - not just the view we have in common, but the very source which holds the origin of the world. This is our personal Big Bang, our original creation story, and it's available now, provable to ourselves alone. It's seeing. So simple we miss it for the obvious truth revealed. Our world is shared through seeing, line-less, without trace of sure division. 

open.

Our seeing brings us here, to the immediacy of this moment and what appears - just this, no stories of a complicated origin, no inquiry needed to lead us where we are. Just this. It's our moment, personal for each, yet shared as well. 

this seeing is as much about what's not seen as it the view, it's about the absence of a seer, and how we're joined by what's not found. Our seeing takes a two way view - from any object of the world and traced back to find a seer. It's an honest look to see what's truly found. This is the koan of finding our previous face before we're born. It's looking for our source. 

and nothings there at all.

no face, an absence of a seer, and just the seeing. 

of course we don't find pure emptiness, as it's revealed to be form as well. One thing in a constant trade of allowing, capacity and its fulfillment. What we share is simply our absence, and at once too - our appearance. It's always one thing. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Ideas

Ideas:

there's nothing for me to write about, no idea occurs to me not previously covered, no theme that hasn't been explored. What I have is a few words, and still the remainder of an empty page. I also have patience, and a certain knowing that ideas arrive in their own time, making themselves available to me when I'm most relaxed and ready to receive. 

and that's my only true role, to be as clear as the beginning of the page, empty of any wish to be a writer, no desire of anything but to be expressed in some thoughtful manner. If I declare myself anything before writing than I set a limit to what appears. Ideas will come to me, attracted to a waiting mind. There is no rush, nor reach for words. I am not a writer, but someone who receives. Only after do I make my declaration - to call myself a writer. 

there is no place where ideas exist, no separate realm found waiting to be explored - it's all from nothing, an appearance from a void. In this way, truly, every word is now a gift. I make no demands for more, taking what is so freely, generously given, and arrange them on the page. It's a simple, easy, pleasure, one of great and grateful joy. 

this is from my time waiting, a morning spent in quite moments, listening to silence until some sound emerges to be heard. Everything comes in its own time, thoughts appear and come to me with an urge to be expressed as words. Ideas form, completely of their own afford. Without expectations, I simply write what's given. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Urged

Urged:

the world will soon be turning green, a host of colors too, and all with the vibrancy of life offering itself in bloom, a show of new beginnings. It's my favorite time of year and winter made worth of its endure. Yet I see it's not a season set apart, special to me for its lengthened days and warmth, but it still holds a winter's edge. Nothing can be rushed and early seasons show me this - it's a time when things are urged forth, the gentle touch of sun pulling to a bud, birds feeding their hungry young, knowing it's not yet time their time for flight. It's a tender, fragile season, new life not quite taken hold. 

it seems at time I'm just as fragile, another season on edge. 

to urge is the way of nature, nothing forced further than it needs to be, just a touch more sun to lengthen days, a bit of warmth calling for the word to green. Life can only be the way it is, and it's not for me to urge it faster. My own bloom will follow the seasons. I am urged to the point patience, tender as the new bud, and perfect in my present display. Life calls to me to be what I am, but only for this moment. The season of grace is always now. 

yes, the world will soon be turning green. It's my favorite time of year. But this moment is what I have and there's no need for it to be other than what it is now. It's the perfect bud, urged to its present display, and not a moment further. 

right now is all that's needed. 

~

Peace, Eric 

True Manifestation

 

this true manifestation - without wish or my demand, and the world appears in its perfection. There is no effort from my part, indeed, it's my becoming too, an appearance somehow manifested by life through the grace of its nature. Yes, there is an art to this, but not my own, being no more than a brushstroke found that found itself aware. My life is of the canvas and display, an intricate blend of a landscape called to life. It's life with its own artistic intent and design.

what I am - belongs to this display.

is there an extent to which I guide the hand that paint's this? Artistic metaphor aside, it seems that life finds itself in its own arrangement, a presentation that manifests without a guiding hand. Life has no plan other than being life, and I am not found apart from this intent. I'm simply being life. There is no  grand design that keeps me separate from this display. 

true manifestation already includes me now, having been brought to an appearance through no will of my own, no greater purpose to fulfill beyond my own sense of being alive. A brushstroke found aware. Life is a vibrant work, and of it's own present manifestation. I belong to this vibrancy, to whatever aspect manifests in the brushstroke next to me. I am already a true manifestation of design. 

there is nothing more to be. 

~

Peace, Eric 

My Experience

My experience: 

it's my experience that makes things so - that everything is unique to me alone, even through it's shared. What I know each moment is my own interpretation of events, my deep personal sense of color, sound, and more subtle things as well. The world is filtered to my own belonging, and too yours, and through this we come to a shared understanding. 

it's how we navigate the world together.

in some ways, through this aloneness of experience, we are brought together deeply - I know from my own touch of air the pleasure of a breeze, from a birdsong I know the joy of early morning. What brings you joy is your own unique pleasure, perhaps different than mine, but at its depth it's the soul of who we are. Our experience is the outer expression of our true common bond. We share the world together, not apart in the things that really matter.

it's empathy, sensing that another is alone in experience, yet knowing as well that we are the depth of one another, that yes, my experience belongs to me, but experiencing itself is universal. My experience informs me of a personal world. That I experience at all is a shared trait of our awareness, a thing never truly apart, belonging to us all together. 

in this way, it's my experience alone, only it's interpretation belongs to me. Everything else is ours, a shared touch of the same air arriving as a breeze, the same listening even as it comes from different birds and other mornings. 

it seems there is no true alone. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Blameless

Blameless:

it's now, that I find myself blameless - this moment is recognized though innocence, a forgiveness that carries no blame from whatever previously appeared. Nothing has existed quite like this before, it's a new world of just this moment, and there is no true past to cast my judgement on. There's just this, all that's happening now for the first time. In this light - the world is blameless. 

only memories are ever judged, and blame is always cast to a previous response. In this way, to forgive is simply a recognition of first innocence, cleansing the moment from any past beliefs held present. It's simply acceptance, that right now is all that truly exists between us, and that even memories belong to the appearance of this moment. 

to see the world without blame, and more to know myself as blameless too for all that's come before - and yet I come to this moment wiser, reborn to an innocence that wishes to atone. Existence is current, and what I sometimes find is a present moment filled with regret, thoughts of blame, and condemnation of myself and others. The world doesn't always feel blameless. But all this appears now, in this moment, and it's all I have to own. There is really nothing to atone for simply for the reason that only now exist. To accept this - is forgiveness. To honor the present moment, this rebirth of innocence, is atonement. It's not complicated....

everything appears now.

so too does compassion, a wish of love to others and myself from moments of before, and a desire to share a kinder world. 

~

Peace, Eric 

For Me Alone

For me alone:  

never literally true, no description, and not the world itself - it's all just degrees of real, fiction told to the point of belief, and the convenience of believing. Every word to follow is true for me only in the moment of my writing. I'm less interested in a literal truth than I am beauty, even temporary in its reveal. What's real doesn't have to be true...

my view shows me a world filled with objects, separate from each other and apart from me - at first glance it's both real and true. Yet the truth is that every object is a dance of energy connected, patterns entwined in endless fashion to pattern after pattern. The solid world is an illusion. But it's real. I can run my fingers across the rough bark of a tree, and feel grass and its collection of dew against my feet. I experience the beauty of this bright, warm morning and know that it is real.My world right now is solid, but not literally so. There's a deeper truth here. Yet it's my experience that I know, what I cherish exactly in the moments, and it's a truth for me alone. 

and there's another view of reality, my own first person existence as the world itself - what's true is my inclusion to this energetic dance, another pattern added to the infinite mix. What's real, for me, is that I find myself both object and the space which allows this dance of energy to even be. In certain moments my reality is seamless - there's just the dance, interchanging partners of form and formless in endless sway. Truth and my experience seem to meet in what's real, and sure, and beautiful to the moment. It's the science of simply being me. 

both real and true. 

~

Peace, Eric 

A Single Word

A single word: 

to say self - as if a single word could fit for our description. Truly we are the multitudes of Whitman, a verb better said than noun, a never ceasing process. We are being. Yes, there is a self, a certain sense of feeling unique and completely formed as an individual functioning in the world. It's our own separate belief of importance, as well as the sense that keeps us apart from others. Yet to be a self is narrow in its description, never capturing the mystery of what we really are. 

there is a self, but it's an always changing story, a fictional account told within a larger reality. To say self, is to limit the world as ours alone. There's always a larger story. We are better told as a process, motion, and entwined with every other story. 

there is no true alone. 

no word will be a complete description, not of ourselves, nor any object of the world. Words keep things static, as if a tree isn't as much earth and its touch of sky as it is a single presentation. There is no tree without the world of its connection. A tree is life in perfect expression of it's function, of being, and is far beyond a single word. 

and so we come to self again - as if a single word captures what we are. To we are a self is to place imaginary borders to our world. Yet in terms of being, we are an active force, an energetic pattern touching every pattern of life. If any one word is used it should one of action, a verb that better fits our endless process of form and formless function. But we say self, and that's the language of our comfort. Truly though, beyond the use of words...

we know the mystery of 

what we are. 

~

Peace, 

Eric 

Just Experience

Just experience: 

there's just experience - and even the thought that it belongs to me is part of what's occurring. To hear these early morning sounds, birdsong's and light traffic, and to believe that this listening is apart from the source from which the sounds emerge, seems to remove me from the moment. I am not part of a separate event, not an actual listener, but of the experience itself, of the listening that happens completely on its own and includes my sense of ownership. 

it's just experience.

this is everything, my own sense is an experience being known by no one at all - this doesn't deny that there is a self, it's not a claim of an absolute void where no individual person exists. Yet it's the self that is being experienced, my belief of being anything other than this, whatever is occurring right now, is simply part of a great participation. Everything belongs. I am not removed from this in anyway, this experience of self is so intimate that an entire life is lives as its expression. 

so it comes to just being, relaxed, and without need to categorize life through separate events. There's what's happening now - and the morning is filled with sound, life being expressed as listening. And even as I believe myself a listener...I know that I belong to the moment itself. 

experienced. 

Peace, Eric 

Always New

Always new: 

it's always new, nothing ever quiet the same from any moment to the next - there are no true memories of anything, only current thoughts that seem that seem to hold us in the past. What we have is right now, just this, and never more than what the present moment offers. 

this is all without effort, no mindful push to be anywhere but right now, as if we could ever stray from here. We are present, we are home, and always so. The value of mindfulness is to remember this, relating to each moment in a grateful manner. What we have right now, no matter how mundane, will never be again - our simple moments matter, they are the fabric of time, of our every experience, and add to a life well loved. This isn't a call to note every detail of the present, but to relax, knowing that every detail appears in its own fashion, unique, and even now changing in its course as something new. 

our every moment is always new. 

that's it, the spiritual search ends within the present moment, now, there is nothing to find that isn't already here. In truth, there's nothing to find at all. Every question of our existence is immediately answered in the very moment of its asking. Of course we might not be satisfied by the silence that we hear, or even the sounds arriving to our ears. But that's the only answer, exactly what's occurring now. 

yet it seems important that we ask, as if a question parts a veil that keeps this moment hidden. We ask until we're ready for this listening, to answers appearing plainly as the view. Our questions are just another present moment happening. 

every answer is as well. 

and always new, revealed unique for each of us alone.

~

Peace, Eric 

Capacity To Allow

Capacity to allow:

everything exactly as it is - and even with the added wish of change. Nothing is excluded from the moment, and true mindfulness is simply this acceptance. My world takes place now, immediate, and allows for complex actions. It all takes place at once. To be mindful isn't a matter of noting each detail in passing - it's of the passing itself, the spacious that allows the world to be in motion. This is where everything appears, where thoughts will linger, and it what remains after every detail passes. I am mindful of my open nature, my capacity to allow. 

there are no means to this arrival, no amount of sitting will ever bring me closer to what's always present now - and yet I find myself drawn to the experience of watching, to sit as witness until even this is gone. Through this I find that meditation isn't passive, my quiet moments are filled with equal life as any other moment found. I am always a participant, active in my role as life. There is no wish to escape this, no desire more intimate than my capacity to allow. To sit is just one more aspect that appears. 

everything belongs. 

of course, as well, there's no need to sit - it's all available now, life, and just as immediate as any mindful moment. To see myself as capacity happens in an instant. It's retracing any thought or object of my view directly back to source. By this I don't mean a true beginning, that there is a source found that starts the world. I am not looking for a point of origin. Indeed, in this seeing I find no real start or finish to anything at all, everything appearing in seamless flow. To say source is just another word implied to open nature, this capacity to allow. 

so it's seeing, just this, everything exactly as it is. 

mindful that it all belongs. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Through Grace

Through grace: 

belonging through grace - and perhaps this is the true gift of seeing, to find that I am without cause, appearing by equal measure as every other wonder of the world. To see, and my value is without question, my worth now fully accepted. I belong, and more, I am free of any burden of the past, belonging new with every moment seeing. 

it's through grace that everything appears - that I recognize myself at once as both capacity and it's fulfillment, emptiness and appearance, and find no reason for any of this to be save the joy of simply being life. I appear for the sake of being. 

it's a rare gift indeed. 

from this point, my philosophical questions mostly fall aside. It's enough to see, to be so intimately involved with life. My inquiry turns from any question of why to one of exploration of my own expansion. Through grace, I've somehow been given the world. It's here, appearing now as myself and view. It's all at once. No question will provide an answer that brings more intimate than exactly where I am. Through grace is just another term for mystery. 

what appears is all that really matters.

seeing takes place now, an instant meditation - it's brief and eternal, that at once I can disappear as a self with individual opinions, and awaken to a selfless presence abiding all the while. There is no need to question further. 

it's all here to be explored.

~

Peace, Eric 

No Idea

No idea:

as for me, I have no idea what's final, if my end state is pure awareness, or perhaps nirvana reached by some degree of grace. It's the moment that matters, and from this point it doesn't feel eternal but intent on motion, change, life through varied guise. I find myself included through this motion, every bit as fragile  as all else that's ever appeared. My own stretch of moments will pass, and I have no idea if there's an after. - so right now is all that really matters. 

this moment too, I find myself aware, a deep quality that feels very much changeless in the press of motion. This is the true gift that has somehow been given, to be aware of myself as a participant of life, knowing the fullness of this expression. This too matters, it's the gift of each moment, and to wish for it to be eternal seems selfish in a sense. Not everything has to meet my demands, to be owned by my desire to continue. This moment, I'm aware, fully involved with life. It's enough for me. To speculate on anything further than this would never bring me closer to the moment now at hand. 

of course there could be degrees to this awareness, subtle states that have yet to be revealed - I hold myself open to all possibilities. Yet I refuse to imagine what those states may be, to pursue any point past the moment its been given. I have no wish to waste this precious time, to fantasize of an eternal now while this one moment slips away. Any revelation, any further awakening, will happen now, or not at all. I am content here, and what comes next will surely be a continuation of this gift. Whatever it may happen to be - or perhaps not be. It's not for me to say. I simply have no idea, and my curiosity extends only to the point of my awareness. 

and that always seems right now. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Allowing

 

Allowing:

to simply be, like all things, and no different than early morning birdsong's at play, crows calling back and forth, cars heard faintly in their travels, and the stir of neighbors getting ready for the day. None of this is chosen, sounds arriving before my eyes are even open to the sunrise. But I hear without complaint, it's life, and everything that arrives is allowed in its own way. 

this too is where thoughts come in, subtle in arrival, and at once they began to categorize my day - each sound given name and description, announcing what will be my agenda, and already calling for me to fully awaken and begin my morning. Yet they are just sounds as well, internal, my own birdsong played through mind, a call and answer of its own. I listen without complaint, thoughts belong to the moment they appear, for however long their stay, and with whatever message they seem to urge. This morning, it's all allowed, the day unfolds exactly as it will. 

this isn't my allowing, it's not an act of calm acceptance to what comes - it's just life, happening, and it includes me in its flow. What I am, is allowed, or more in point, I am essentially this allowing nature. I wake up exactly as I am, already included as the day. There is no effort to belong, as proper as the sunrise and birdsong's, it's all just life in its awakening. 

that at times I feel apart from this, separate in thought and belief, is only part of what arrives, mind stuff, and come as any other aspect that's allowed. In no way does it separate me from belonging. In this way, through this allowing - there's life. 

somehow just arriving. 

~

Peace, Eric 

A Headless Perspective

A headless perspective:

my perspective is relaxed on these matters - there's just this seeing, a clarity of what belongs and that truly nothing is excluded. It's a headless perspective by means of pointing, and then simply resting in the peace that's found through this awareness. There's no rush to fill this spaciousness with a new, better understanding. It's enough to see, to now investigate the world without lines of separation. I have no desire to debate what's found, nor to add another theory. I've rediscovered my life, headless, empty, and yet so very much fulfilled. 

it's about finding myself as capacity, and as such, there's little need to argue on distinctions - looking outwards, I find the world before me, looking back towards the source which holds the view, I find myself within the world. Seamless. Nothing disappears but the idea of myself as a solid host of seeing, that everything begins and ends within my personal view. 

headless - the world just is. 

yet to say capacity is also misleading, as if there are limits to this hold, or that this emptiness claims a special point of being, an entity of some power to be aware. The capacity mentioned here is its own fulfillment, not at all separate from its hold. It's this that I always return to, the simplicity of seeing, and releasing any need to fill the view with my own desires and beliefs. The world is found here, life, teeming with such wild and varied expressions. This is where I belong, as wild and varied as any other appearance, and now with so much to explore. 

it's a headless perspective, but really it's just seeing, living my life from intimate experience of this one great belonging. There's no point to me to argue. Life happens on it's own as far as I can tell. Seeing is natural, spontaneous, and I am given this as grace. So I conclude with a simple note - that I am grateful for it all. 

~

Peace, Eric 

No Infinite Lines

No infinite lines:

there are no infinite lines, no point where one thing ultimately becomes another, something separate, and leaves its previous world behind. Yes, it's seen that the ocean ceases at the shore, yet there is a subtle touch between the two, of how the beach becomes an ocean floor, and smaller bodies, rivers, lend themselves to carry on the essence of its tide. To say that something leaves itself apart in order to become something other misses this continuation. Everything is touched upon another in endless ways. It's a world of distinctions, but always one thing. 

simply life, or more subtle still, energy in variety of expression - this is the truest ocean, primordial, existing both as potential and the world of form. There are no lines drawn here, nothing solid that doesn't also exist at once as formless pattern. From my own basic level, cells to skin, the atmosphere that supports my given breath, and all the way to....

there are no infinite lines.

there's only what continues, or perhaps better stated, only continuation - that I am not land, nor ocean, but existing as potential, a temporary lend of spacious energy expressed at once as water and it's shore. I am part of this as well, no line drawn from my own infinite nature. I see this as a true miracle, that of all that could have been expressed - I appear, and of the same essence as great oceans, mountains, to every single blade of grass. I am equal to this all, more so, that I am....

and this includes it all. 

~

Peace, Eric