Of Our Own Presence

Of our own presence: 

that there is life at all, and that it continues through such improbable odds of it's existence - this alone should be our religion, a worship of our own presence within this seamless flow of living. That we are, and that we belong with so true precision - it is indeed, cause to be in constant awe. The miracle is that we're able to take this all for granted, not the measured quality of living, but existence itself, and that we are somehow granted an awareness to our presence. 

it's without struggle, existence, to find ourselves here, alive - yes, life presents it's share of suffering, often violence, and aspects that defy our sense of belonging to this world. There is no explanation for so much sorrow. It's just what life holds. Yet, existence, this rare privilege of being, was simply given. By grace and no struggle. 

we are of collapsed stars from long ago, an event of  condensed energy given infinite expansion. Life came from a process of single cells longing to be more. Now, here we are, this is our moment to be alive, we are an endpoint of all that came before, aware that life continues in its motion when we're gone. This is our gift...

that we are aware.

and so we know this, of our own presence simply being given, whole, complete, and without ever being asked for. It's our moment to be alive. Knowing this, for me, seems to give cause for compassion, true worship of the tenderness life holds, it's fragile balance of achievement. Our presence is a gift, to each and every aspect of living - to be aware, to care, and offer love, is our true religion. 

~

Peace, Eric