Symmetry

Symmetry:

my aim is symmetry, a sense of beauty to the page through words and their arrangement-  that emptiness plays key to this, backdrop to every phrase, providing meaning to each word. Everything belongs just so, precise, and yet could easily be rearranged and give a similar point of view. The message itself should always remain the same. 

this is the elegance of writing, the equal importance of space and meaning, how words arrive spontaneously and free, playing as a phrase across the page. There is great and simply pleasure in my sense of being part of this, equal too in my belonging. 

symmetry, all.

grace too plays no small role - every word is received from nothingness, truly, that just before anything reaches mind and page there is simply patience, a faith that emptiness provides its own fulfillment. There is never a search for words. 

so meaning comes last, yet if there's any order at all it's by chance. Every word given is a surprise, a gift, and then I have the endless emptiness of the page on which to play. My aim is symmetry, to honor words and spaciousness by arrangement. Any meaning or general theme seems to happen on its own. The page provides such room, such largeness, infinite in its allowing of mistake and pleasure, a joyful surrender to whatever comes written. 

even symmetry happens on its own.

my only role is of surrender. 

~

Peace, Eric 

At Some Point

At some point: 

at some point - writing happens, words appears, and the page is filled. Yet it still remains a mystery, of how their very absence holds the potential of their being written. There is no real process to this, words are always somewhat of a surprise to me.That for a moment I am just as empty as the page, waiting, and that words come completely on their own, unbidden, free of my demand. Words come from nowhere and simply make their presence known, subtle, easing to a sudden appearance. I serve as capacity in the same manner as the page, empty only for their arrival, providing meaning through my notice. A writers role is to only be aware. 

at some point - everything happens on its own.

most of writing is waiting, and then arranging whatever words are given. Sometimes it happens quickly, a rush of words already in phrase, a whole page filled in one setting. Often it's a single a word, and a paused stretched at length before another. Patience is always key. At first a writer feels clever for their choices, words used and discarded, how they're arranged in such a pleasing way. I've long since abandoned any claims of being clever. Words are a gift and not ones of my giving. I'm simply willing to wait for them, to give my time in faith of their arrival. 

at some point - they just appear. 

what happens is mostly a response to their appearance - it's no different than any other aspect of life, that something appears and given notice, and life is arranged to meet that moment. All of life is a spontaneous call and response, a stream of events in continuous happening. Our role is to only be aware, and this requires no effort. Awareness is capacity for life to happen. Through this words gain meaning, events are given significance by our response. 

our page is filled. 

~

Peace, Eric  

Contradicts

Contradicts: 

nothing really contradicts us - life is always exact. Whatever happens right now is both sudden in appearance as well as gradual on its arrival. This moment for me, early, and the morning stirs alive. Sounds come first, birds giving note to each other, a pause and response with silence playing key between. A reach of sunlight finds my eyes, giving cause for them to open, to see the world lit by soft and lengthening rays. 

my world appears.

it's all simply here, none of my creation, nothing asked for - and even if expected, normal, life is still so sudden in its appearance, rushing immediately to my senses the very instant of my notice. Every morning is richly given, just an abundance of life made available for my waking. And it's spontaneous, happening always now, always now, and no need to call for anything to appear. Waking up is truly magical, and not only for my morning, but every moment another dawn, the world constantly appearing. 

timeless.

and yet.

it's such a gradual giving, a history of days and birdsong's - life comes from long origins, stretched to the birth of stars and their eventual sacrifice of light for me to even have this morning. I find it all without cause and all the more appreciative for its gift. This moment has all that's needed for my breath, air in exact measure, my body formed in perfect function for its use. There is some grace throughout it all, mystery at play without plan. 

life flowed exactly to this moment.

and now sudden, spontaneous, in it's appearance. 

none of this contradicts itself - life is always exact, precise, and I find no question as to how it's given. Each moment is a sudden miracle, long in it's arrival. What I am is the acceptance of this gift, as well as an original aspect of its giving. I am spontaneous in my appearance to every moment and at once bound through a timeline of existence. 

none of this is to be explained, 

it's just how life is. 

~

Peace, Eric 

At What Point

At what point:

at what point was our true becoming? Our start seems spontaneous, a sudden appearance and then awake to all the world. Yet our aliveness preceded this event, and further still our DNA traces us to first life. There has been a glimmer of us through all existence - from the Big Bang in giving potentiality, a stars explosion of hydrogen and light, to that original primordial breath on leaving the ocean. It's all been our becoming, from first point of creation to this very moment still. 

our universe is still expanding. 

through this same insight it's seen that there really is no true becoming, that we've always been a trace of life through the fabric of existence and only a personal self has lately claimed ownership of it all. It's that self that has limit, a time given from its birth to ending breath. But life itself goes on, our bodies once more returned to earth, a rebirth through other aspects of the world. Even the very foundation of our form, every single particle of each atom that holds us as a body, will continue on, another appearance in an endless view. 

it seems what we truly are is without identity, a process, continuous in it's letting go of any form or personality. It also seems that want more than this, a lasting self that's easily recognize through every change. It's not enough to be eternal, our wish to always be the same, but perhaps a better version, enlightened, or sitting by the thrown of God. We are wishing to be a soul, something personal that remembers exactly who we are after our bodies are let go. I can only say perhaps...

there is no sure telling what happens after death - for me, there's no cause for speculation. This personal self is always changing too, it's never been a static state, solid, and independent on it's own. It's only been a belief, an appearance posing as importance. It's part of this letting go, never really lasting beyond a moment through awareness. What survives death is life, impersonal, yet still intimate by it's very nature. There is no point of our true becoming, and none for our departure. There's just this letting go...through every moment found aware. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Amidst

Amidst: 

amidst the infinite, 

already.

there is no world apart from us, no place to travel not touched by our arrival right now - it's an intimate belonging, one existence spread far and further than imagined. 

we are made of the finer stuff of stars, light sacrificed and far flung elements for our creation. We are the Big Bang continued even now. From a small, compact source of energy, something singular and then sudden in expansion. What was created was potentiality, the promise of our existence. We are truly of the universe itself, right from its very beginning. 

and still it's all expanding. 

there's more to this than my poor attempt to explain science - this is our reality, right now, made of stars, composed of atoms that have existed since the birth of time. There is no outer space, it's all simply the infinite offered here. This point is our belonging, not a distant heaven, nor promise of Nirvana. We've expanded past those beliefs. 

our faith is in the infinite.

and as we see - that's exactly what we are. 

what could we possible search for that is beyond the scope of our existence? From the Big Bang through the course of time and the furthest reach of its expansion, we've somehow been apart of it all. Atoms breathed with our present breath have touched the lips of the very first human. We share the particles of original creation. How much grander could we possibly be?  

even more is how much we will continue - our star dust given to earth, those ancient particles breathed by generations yet to come. We aren't reborn. We are continued through the form and formlessness of the very fabric of existence. 

even now. 

amidst the infinite, already and always.

~

Peace, Eric 

Weight

Weight:

it's the heaviness of the world that I believe in - the weight of its reality, and the material of earth and air. I have faith in thought and body, the very substance of my being. I believe in what I know through my senses, informed by sight and sound, the subtle information of taste and smell. It's all physical in some way, explained through the words of science. 

as well, 

there is the immaterial aspect of it all, weightless, void of any substance save the potentiality of it's allowingness. This emptiness cures me of any true material belief. I see how each moment arises without real cause of its own, of how I find myself aware, constant, present to every change of thought and body. There is no weight to any of this, nothing solid to hold to, it's all just motion, a swirling world of emptiness and form. 

so, 

more truly I am without belief between the two, without need of anything but to live each moment in its arrival. Everything is exactly, and as simply, as it is. Life happens without my concern, not a single belief will change this. What I find is that reality is all at once, it's the heaviness of the material world, tangible in its joy and sorrow - and too, there is a weightlessness to it all, a lightness that bears our suffering and delight through the pure capacity of its hold. 

none of this is ordinary, mundane, it'a miracle though each moment - that the world appears by the grace of emptiness, a constant trade of selflessness for the experience of self in the guise of form. It's not a choice, nor even matter to believe in. It's just life, reality, occurring on its own. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Evidence Shows Me

it's based on what's found, simply looking and noting what the evidence shows me - this is science as true as any university or lab.  More so, it's personal, my own involvement, and always available for any moment I wish to deeply see. 

to just look, that's all - from the world back to the source which holds the view. It's a returned gaze in search of who it is that's truly seeing. I can pick any object and note the reality of its existence, how it appears solid, distinct, completely on its own. But what about the seer? If I search and truly look there is nothing solid found, nothing that stands separate and distinct within the view. Just looking, right now, and I fail to reach my own gaze, seeing nothing that resembles the image a mirror holds, finding no object that holds these very conscious thoughts. 

nothing. 

what I find is emptiness. 

evidence shows me only the view, no seer, no eyes of my own, no head. But something remains, amidst this emptiness the world is found, seamless, and an awareness too the claims me as its own. It's all impersonal and intimate at once - that I belong, and deeper still, that I truly am an aspect to the whole, that all there is is this belonging.   

 that I'm beloved.

for indeed, there is only this acceptance. 

with this evidence, I relax, at ease within the world - there is no need to search for anything more, no wish to debate the deep mysteries of existence. Everything is right here for me to explore, the mystery itself present at the near end of my gaze. I don't need to make distinctions, to call this anything at all, and argue that it's valid. 

it's just seeing, 

and the present evidence provided. 

~

Peace, Eric 

   

Most Obvious

Most obvious: 

most obvious of all is my own mystery -  that I simply don't know my own true origin, of how I find myself here at each moment. None of this is my own doing. There is no conscious choice of being alive. Awareness happens completely on it's own. I am a somehow grace of existence, a spontaneous appearance, present and aware. 

mystery.

it seems odd that this alone isn't enough, that a story needs to be added - everything, right now, is a miracle of existence, without first cause, nor reason for life to be. It's all arising just so, changing even now, and will never be like this again. This is what I am, all that's present, shifting in appearance through every moment. It's what we are together. There is no real explanation, nothing that tells me why this moment came to be. 

it just is, and always arriving so.

aware, present, and that's all I really know - everything else is obviously a mystery, questioning why is always left unanswered. My only true knowing is of temporary things, of motion, how each moment presents something already becoming another new appearance. I know of change through the stillness of awareness. It's the knowing itself that remains unexplained, that even presence is somehow witnessed, and at some point it's all let go, surrendered to the mystery. 

most obvious of all is just not knowing - I am without answers as to why any of this came to be, of my own appearance in the world, how I find myself aware. I truly can't claim myself as anything. No story, nothing labeled as my own. It's all simply here, arising spontaneously to each moment, everything - myself included. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Don't Call It Anything

Don't call it anything: 

don't call it anything - life itself is absent of description, happening at once and by its own notice and design. It's what we awaken to, our own current moment of being alive and belonging to life through every aspect if its flow. There's nothing else but this. To even say that we're awakened implies a subtle line in our participation, that perhaps things will be different than before. 

life is always exactly as it is.

there's nothing to be liberated from, no enlightenment gained - there's only being alive and appreciative that each moment happens. How could we be removed from any of this? Liberated from what? Life is the only present option, and even death is simply another mode if its expression. Enlightenment offers us nothing that isn't already here.

we only awaken to what's present.

always here.

with no claim of liberation - we belong through every moment that life offers, holding sorrows deeply and feeling the lightness of our joys. Suffering happens, grief, life is full in what it brings. Nothing is excluded. We are awake to our very own belonging. To see ourselves as life is to be in awe of all of its expression. We're not removed from any one of them. The only true liberation is to know ourselves as alive, present to all that happens, vulnerable. 

don't call is anything - it all happens on its own. 

it's simply life. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Mostly Space

Mostly space:

even the body is mostly space, our every atom a galaxy of it's own - nothing is truly as it seems, emptiness more our reality than form, and we are intermingled as the world. In this light who can really say exactly what they are? We are mostly parts, a collection of things with no intrinsic value save their touch of space and other parts. What makes any of this an individual? 

our existence depends entirely on parts, somehow gathered. 

what we are is mostly a pattern, an energetic structure within a universe of vast design. We are emptiness in direct recognition of itself even through the guise of form. With this we gain a sense of presence, beingness, and come to believe ourselves separate from the whole. 

of course this is a myth, my own creation story based on science and my own sense of spaciousness, a recognition found through simply looking for who I really am. Science shows that I am composed of atoms, and that each atom in itself  is mostly space between it's nucleus and outer shell. If somehow this space were to be removed my physical form would be reduced smaller than a particle of dust. Clearly I am mostly space. 

emptiness. 

Yet not empty of a critical force - what provides mass to every form is energy. My pattern of self is held together by motion, a swirl of subatomic particles that dance the world into existence. So I am emptiness, and too a dervish whirl of energy. At once. 

there's the science of it all, somewhat at least. 

but also, there's my own investigation, a science of my own accord - this is seeing for myself a certain truth of my existence. Am I as I appear to be? Do my beliefs of a solid, personal self hold true? The inquiry is to turn the view around, to see the source of seeing directly for myself. And what I find is just as empty as science tells, just as vast and endless in design. I find my true and selfless nature as well the fulfillment of self and form. It's all at once, everything, emptiness in proven service, energy giving rise to form, and an awareness that permeates it all. 

my personal science of existence. 

so, we are mostly space - and more, something ineffable, a mystery and grace that somehow holds this all together. Mostly, what we are simply can't be told. 

~

Peace, Eric 

     

Elegance

Elegance: 

with sure and true elegance, seamless - the world appears. This is how we first see, our original view before interpretation. It shows our own inclusion, how easy we belong amidst it all. This is easy to return to, our present view is always ready to reveal the obvious, to show us exactly where we are within a seamless world. 

everywhere is center.

yes, there are distinction - a tree comes from earth, branches spread in a reach through sky. Yet it is never not a touch of one thing, there is no point where a tree ceases from the whole. We are joined to this though breath of common air, our feet touched against the same earth, and infinite other ways. There is no point where we are separate from the whole. 

what's seen is the elegance of lines, how they create distinctions without any true divide. Our bodies are a line between us, providing space but no real separation. We are similar to a tree in our connection to ground and reach through air. The line of every branch is a soft press against sky, a favor returned by weight of air and offered breeze, through clouds releasing rain in a quenching fall. A line only divides to know itself as a touch of all things. 

it's distinctions that give us beauty, providing meaning through words and objects. We translate the seamless for our convenience and pleasure. What we first see, our original view, is simply the energy of the world. Patterns within patterns. Endless. Everything is revealed as motion, a formless caress somehow slowed through a gathering of form. 

and now the world appears. 

of course these words are simply lines, a search of elegance through the emptiness of this beginning page. No true description is told. Only a translation of the seamless.

a story. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Without Meaning

Without meaning:

science points to a universe without meaning, purposeless with exception of its own function - and with no grand designer to make it all appear. The world, and stars, and the infinite space of between, arose spontaneously, without divine order. In this regard we are simply a function of life, highly evolved, yet not of anymore significant than any other ape, and certainly no more so than any other of the countless lifeforms that make this planet home. 

and yet...

there is some magic here, 

it's the miracle of existence. That we are here, alive, and without real reason why any of this should be. Somehow, we were given as the universe. Home. Our purpose is simplicity itself - we only have to exist, without question of worth and design. 

to just be. 

do we need more than this? 

for most of us, it seems we do - we've imagined purpose where none exists, dreaming of gods in our own image, and claiming dominion of the world. We believe our purpose is control. Worse, we believe this has been granted as our right. This is where we miss the true magic, a universe capable of a spontaneous event so large as to bring itself into existence. And it all continues even now, expanding, new stars created and collapsing through infinite exchange. We exist because a star exploded, a random event, yet here we are and all by sacrifice of light. 

if there's a God, it's existence itself.

how do we navigate a world without meaning? 

with care, awe, and compassion. 

through this immensity we are small, fragile, and yet somehow too we belong amidst it all, at home within the largeness. It's not the we are infinite beings, it's that there's only infinite. We are the universe, still part of this self-creating event. Our very nature is spacious, and through this we offer the compassion of our hold, an embrace that just continues to evolve, always willing in its inclusion. Our meaning is self-creating as well, just as spontaneous, and doesn't involve fulfilling anything but our own commandment of existence...

that we are, and for no reason found.

in this light we see everything as rare, holy by nature of its chance. Our reverence is reserved for all that shares this one existence. We are in awe of our own great fortune. None of this ever had to be...

and yet, 

here we are. 

Peace, Eric 

Not Concerned

Not Concerned: 

really, I'm not concerned about the ego, nor enlightenment, and have no interest in any sort of salvation - all of these are issues beyond my interest and control. They are thoughts that appear and lead to a fantasy outside this present moment. It's fine to speculate, to be curious what, if anything, exist as an afterlife, or if the ego has any power of it's own. But again, it's all an appearance, simply thoughts that come and go. It's what remains that has my interest.

this moment, I find myself aware, relaxed - nothing mentioned above exists right now, not even ego unless it gains attention. What I have is an easy flow of words, morning sounds, and smell of coffee,. This is all at hand, real in the sense of being present. For my needs, and even few desires, everything is met and satisfied. 

there is no need for more.

so, for now, I'm not concerned with things that call for my attention. I just allow the world to flow through this unclaimed awareness. Writing each words as it's given, unhurried, curious too as to what appears and where it all will lead to to. Why complicate things by writing about issues not of my immediate concern, giving my opinion on the belief of others? I have no true idea on matters of the ego, enlightenment seems nothing more than a concept, and salvation means little to me now. There's no reason to add my thoughts to any of this, it's all been covered ten thousand times before. 

what can't be argued of is awareness itself, the simplicity of it's allowing nature, that everything belongs exactly as the moment it appears. To make any claim on this falls directly to its hold. To be aware is without bias. Somehow, life has brought me directly to this moment, unconcerned by larger matters, aware of simple pleasures given to my morning. The world will make itself known to me in other ways today. Awareness is nothing but expansive. But right now I enjoy the quiet intimacy of not knowing anything but these early sounds, first sips of coffee, and the surprise of words. 

awareness is nothing but intimate, personal...

and always of this moment. 

~

Peace, Eric 

We See

We see: 

we see things that don't exist, at least not in the sense we think they do - existence is energy, motion, and when we see a solid world we witness the illusion of appearance. Things simply aren't as they seem and we take much or granted. It's incredible to know that the world danced itself into being from an emptiness that came before and still holds sway as pure potential. 

what we really see is emptiness in its exchange to form.

we too are a great part of this exchange, aware capacity giving cause to its own fulfillment - and with this we can see things in a more inclusive way. Everything is an appearance given weight by meaning. To know something as ultimately an illusion doesn't diminish its value. Sorrow doesn't exist as an actual thing, by itself it can't be witnessed. Yet we are keen to its effects, and never doubt the reality of its presence. We know sorrow, we know infinite things that can't be seen, and we give room to them all through our capacity to hold them in awareness. 

this is our fulfillment. 

in this sense - everything belongs. Whatever appears isn't our cause or blame, but it is our responsibility to tend with care, noting it's effects on ourselves and others. As capacity we are truly each others keeper, belonging as the same awareness, sharing in both sorrow and joy. 

our fulfillment is compassion. 

so we see emptiness come to form - but as well we are witness to its apparent loss, form once more returned to origin. We grieve for what's believed to be now missing. Yet is anything ever really lost in this exchange? Energy is always becoming something. Emptiness is always willing in its hold. Grieving is part of this transformation, our memory of the seen being held in cherished form for just a moment longer. Everything is relinquished so it can be again, formless only for another dance to form. Life re-birthed as life, countless in the promise of its appearance. 

this is what we see - life in it's appearance, emptiness providing for its way. The illusion is a static world, motionless. We don't see things..

we see existence. 

~

Peace, Eric 

What It Shows

What it shows:

what it shows is seamless - that everything belongs at once, as it is, without true borders that call for things to be a certain way. The world is not divided. A tree isn't found as an object on it's own, apart from earth and its reach separate from sky. It's a seamless touch of one thing, distinct, yet still and always belonging as the whole. 

this too, is how we fit in, just as seamless as a tree - our soul is of the earth, roots deep, and our every breath is drawn from sky. This is our belonging. There's no need to think of heaven, nor wish for any salvation that isn't present now. 

we are home. 

to know this, to truly feel at home - we only have to see. For me, this is a headless view, to follow Douglas Harding's instructions of pointing at any object, noting that it seems independent from my own existence, separate and distant. This is how the world is usually seen, everything in parts, broken from any semblance of being whole. Yet is it so? Is it the only way to see the world? 

this inquiry shows otherwise - to continue pointing, but from objects now to something more near. Turning finger towards the seer, to actually point at the source which holds the view...and only more view is found, no face is seen, headless, without seer. It's impossible to point and see ourselves as a separate source within the view. In a sense, we;re absent from it all. Here's the emptiness of the Buddhist heart sutra, the Vedic field of possibilities, the offered void of  quantum physics. 

but, of course there's more - this is not an ordinary absence, this is a full, awake, emptiness for the worlds becoming. Everything is found here. This, here, is where we belong. So, now we're seeing, and what it shows is seamless. What we most truly are - is both, and at once. We are the fulfillment of emptiness, capacity in services of our hold. 

we are seamless too. 

in this way we don't have to make bold distinctions, that everything must be seen a certain way - our world is much too inclusive for that, far too seamless for anyone thing to overrule. We've been shown that everything seen belongs for however long its stay. 

and this includes our own appearance. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Without First Cause

Without first cause: 

eventually, we are left without an answer - our every inquiry ends with the silent assurance of mystery, ineffable, and without need of knowing more. Life just is. This doesn't negate the curiosity of science, seeking to explain the working of the world, exploring how life came to be. Philosophers too, continue to ask the deeper questions. But we know that it all arrives without first cause, spontaneous in appearance, and that the questions of why things are exactly as the are for us - will never truly be answered. Our inquiry ends without knowing. 

perhaps this is hard to accept, that we need to place ultimate praise or blame on a singular source. We need God for his parental wisdom, or some karmic explanation. Yet this too is just more mystery. We are back to just not knowing why and now feign satisfaction with some infinite cosmic plan. No, our real acceptance is more straightforward - we live without need of first cause, without true knowing, and allow life to flow without requirement of praise nor blame. 

life is it's own responsibility. 

this isn't a claim to deny God's existence, and I hope it isn't fatalistic. It's more a call to relax and know that life simply happens. It's all appearance and response and we are not the true cause of any of it. We just do our best through every moment. This truly is a deeper faith, that we are capable of being alive, part of life's greater wisdom. We know only of what's really needed, of the sun for its source of energy, air to give breath, and all the abundant gifts of life. Without wish or demand we are grateful for each moment. Without first cause we accept exactly what's been given. There may indeed be something further to this all, an answer to every question why - but if so it's beyond us, and giving time to this takes from the present moment. 

life, right now...is what we have. 

~

Peace, Eric 

       

Measured

Measured: 

it doesn't have to be like us - consciousness measured against our own beliefs, and viewed through a very human lens. Life is varied in expression, and in no way meets a certain criteria of being. Our expectation seems to be that the consciousness of other lifeforms should be similar to ours, however remotely, and only then be considered valid on their own. 

life is measured by degrees of separation. 

yet nothing truly can be viewed apart from us. We are joined by consciousness, as life itself, and all that varies is the form of its expression. It's not a valid question to ask how similar or different another being is from us. Life is true only to it's own expression, and has no cross of standards to bear. There's nothing for it to prove. 

in this sense, science is subjective, no matter how it wishes to be viewed. Everything is touched by the consciousness of its existence. To believe that we can examine the world apart from this is simply wrong. We see from consciousness, aware, and nothing is found separate from this. Science is the study of life conducted by itself. How could this ever be objective? 

the common belief is that we are special, life, but somehow given more. Through this lens we view the world. This, more truly, is our original sin, the gained knowledge that removed our innocence from the garden. We believed that we inherited the earth, and missed the gift of our real belonging. We are very much the earth, made of similar ground, touched by just one air. 

our inheritance is our belonging. 

life, than, isn't really measured - there are no lines drawn through consciousness, nothing found separate from our awareness. Our current view is turned around. We aren't conscious beings, special in this certain way. We are consciousness expressed as individual beings, aware aspects of the whole. Through this view we find the world inclusive, without true measure. 

we are conscious...

and everything belongs. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Because

Because:

because it had to be expressed - and this truly is my only answer as to why the world exists, for suffering to occur, and life to be exactly as it is through any given moment. From the Big Bang of absolute nothing to a universe of something, and to whatever experience that's presented right now - it's all an expression of just what is, no further explanation made known. 

it's life and how it occurs. 

there really is no answer as to why, the question is to far regressed to infinite resignation. We are always left with only this moment, already changing, becoming new in its expression. Through the very instant that we ask, the question itself is obsolete, a relic of previous conditions. There is only the continuous expression of this present moment, for whatever reason it appears. 

perhaps life answers itself - each moment is given in reply to its own query as to why. The answer is always right now, always because this is what's known, and present. It's all self answering, yet we miss it by refusing to acknowledge what's been given, dissatisfied by our conditions. This is why, by virtue and appearance, through grace, and infinite reasons all unknown. 

because mystery. 

life, is the answer as to why.

for me, I like the thought that each moment just has to be expressed, that life is bursting with possibilities, eager through the experience of time. What's present is the art life at each moment, at once so full of drama, comedy, and sorrow that is has to be told. There is no ultimate meaning to art, it's all for its own sake, creation by desire and without true design. 

each moment is it's all, and only answer.

exactly as it is right now. 

~

Peace, Eric 

To Ask

To ask:

to ask why - this is an inquiry of infinite regress, asked by every child in innocence. There is no ultimate answer to this question, not one that satisfies our intent for asking. Science tends not to deal with this line of thought, it offers specifics as to how, but asking why is too ineffable perhaps. Religion simplifies matters with the declaration of God's intent. This makes it hard to argue, but again proves to leave us without the deep satisfaction only an answer that resonates provides. 

the inquiry is why - and this is asked of anything, any life event, purpose, or phenomenon. Why am I? And asking further, why of all possibilities, am I here at all? That's what we're asking. It's less traditional than the common inquiry found in many non-dual traditions. It has the curiosity of our childhood questions, and we now have the patience of our own authority to ask until we're satisfied. 

this isn't asked to find our purpose in life, it's not meant to provide answers that clarify a path for us to follow. The question should leave us perplexed, yet full of wonder and gratitude that we've somehow gained appearance in this world. What we find through this regress is that every answer has a further why, and further still until we come to the stillness that every inquiry provides - there is no ultimate answer, no truth as to why we're here. 

we simply are.

asking, again and again - we come to resonate with the silent answer found. It's here, that gratitude begins, an honest gratefulness of being, no conditions attached to arrival or stay. We have no idea why we are here, what, if any, purpose we may serve. We're free of philosophies. 

we're free. 

with this, we give our lives the meaning it deserves - and that's only one of possibilities. Meaning isn't assigned, there's no karmic load to carry. We know there isn't an answer as to why we're here, we're a spontaneous appearance, a gift that simply arrived without asking. We're here because we are. To ask why no longer matters. 

to be - is without meaning. 

and with this we're free...to be exactly what we are. 

~

Peace, Eric 

     

Words Appear

Words appear: 

to know that words appear, and that it's all completely on it's own - there's no need for me to do anything other than show up to the page. It's my own commitment to appear, to believe myself a writer. There's a certain faith in both of these. My involvement here is really minimal, and this isn't to downplay talent, nor the role of practice. But simply to state how little of any this I actually choose. Words come unbidden, truly appearing on their. I have no idea of what's to come until ideas reach me and I find myself typing phrases that were absent just a moment ago. 

in the same way I never chose to be a writer, it's an impulse too - somehow, I've been given the idea to write, to sit at my desk every morning and simply wait for words to find me. They always do. Through none of this do I find myself willfully choosing my actions. Where do these first thoughts of being a writer originate from? Why these particular words? I never really know, and it no longer seems to matter. This is where I find myself, and it's here that words find me. 

so I write. 

of course there is a choice - I could stay in bed, go for a run, or a thousand other options might appeal to me. These are possibilities. Yet still there's little say to any of this. Why would my preference be to stay in bed? What draws me to my desk instead? I find myself living in a mystery, surrendered to its flow. There's the appearance of choice and I participate fully. That's how life operates it seems. But there's something deeper playing through as well, a certain choice-less awareness to it all. What's going on is just participation, there's no central authority to make the calls, no self found present to choose these possibilities. It's simply life engaging with itself, inspiration without true cause. 

and so, I find myself here, writing. 

words, did indeed appear. 

~

Peace, Eric 

To Be A Seeker

To be a seeker:

to be a seeker is to live in hope of finding some aspect of life that offers fulfillment, an endgame of enlightenment, or perhaps to suffer just a little less. That's the common thought at least and perhaps true for many. For some, it seems, the search alone is enough and no answer ever provides an end to their pursuit. There are many teachers that have a sincere wish to help one off this path. They understand it's a fruitless search within an already present orchard. Life is what's searched for, our own presence found within each moment, aware and at ease. 

it's an easy search really. 

a seeker is just a distinction made, a cause of separation termed from someone who believes they've found a place of value. Yet we all share the same reality, we stand on common ground with saint and guru, master and sage. All a true teacher will do is point, smile, and relax. We'll all find our own way. Or not. I'm not so sure it really matters. I've seen many people awaken to another pursuit, almost evangelical in their desire to heal the delusions of others, blind to the irony of their trade of something for the sake of absolute nothing(ness). It's just one delusion for another, although now they no longer call themselves a seeker. This isn't to disparage anyone, not those who seek, nor those who preach of nothing. We all find ourselves exactly where we are. 

there's nowhere else to be.

and that's the point, we're all explorers, with life always offering us it's mystery. No one has ever found anything absolute, no permanent truth, nothing that hasn't always been apparent in someway. We're life in rediscovery of ourselves. That's what living is. And in it's constant, life rearranges itself for our surprise, never quite the same through any one moment. To discover silence is to hear ordinary sounds in a joyful way. To see the world in seamless fashion is to hold each distinction holy, clear to what it offers. To realize the inherent emptiness of  reality, the absence of any true self - is to find a deeply intimate, personal world. 

it's really just one thing...and it's ours to be explored.

~

Peace, Eric 

A Single Conversation

A single conversation:

it's all a single conversation, a chorus of information shared between aspects of the world, and carried on through a sense of time. What we are now is expressed DNA, secrets whispered in molecular code from ancestors long ago. We are an ancient story presently told. Our bodies communicates through a language of cells, electric in both call and response. We are spoken as a continuous chemical reaction. 

Our body is talked into existence. 

and of course we're part of a much larger conversation as well - everything is information in constant flow. That we breathe and feel what the world wishes for us to know, and that we talk through air and sensations, vibrations of sound too subtle for words alone. The world's story is told through sunlight, a conversation of just enough heat, balance, a turning story of night and day, of distance told as seasons. We are not absent through this larger conversation. We are part of it all, an expression of the whole, whispering back through the langue of our current life. 

everything we are...speaks as everything that is. 

truly, it's a single conversation, emptiness speaking as form, energy through the slowed vibrations of what appears to be a solid world. It's all information shared of one existence. We speak in bold and subtle ways, continuously, a stream of dialog between imagined parts to give cause and meaning to the world. It's how insights seem to arrive, that we are privy now to something simply not heard before. We are not given information. It's listening, knowing that we are in self-conference of a far grander scale. 

it's a single language of existence.

~

Peace, Eric 

As Soul

As Soul:

it's all soul - there is nothing that doesn't somehow fit in this belonging, every bit of earth, from stream to ocean, to surrounding air, and all that make their home here. Everything belongs and it's all soul, intertwined as single life. 

there isn't a measurement of consciousness here, a hierarchy of aware - life is imbued with purpose, it's own inspiration of being, and at no point are we removed from this. Nor are we it's highest achievement. We are an aspect of life granted with a sense of self importance, and have found ourselves believing that our every thought is true. Yet we are always, still, an interdependent aspect of the whole.  We've simply forgotten that we are soul. 

philosophies try and make sense of this existence, explaining and giving meaning to the world. Science offers theories on how things came to be. What we talk of here might be placed in the realm of theology, or dismissed entirely as new-age nonsense. But what we're talking about is simply life, and not just life reduced to its use and function. We're talking something more here, a deeper belonging, a true philosophy of being home within the world. 

of being soul. 

our only mistake is in believing that we are not part of this ecology, that we are somehow apart, and able to control how life flows. We believe our own self-importance. We believe there is a self found separate from the whole. There isn't, and that's what awareness shows us. That's the gift of being aware, awake to who we are and how the world all fits together. 

we are aware.

and it's easy to see how everything belongs. This doesn't mean that everything comes with an explanation, that violence, sorrow, and all that hurts now suddenly makes sense. It doesn't mean we understand the world. Mystery is just too large. What we are is aware, and what we see is our own seamless belonging. We see ourselves as home exactly where we are. This is soul, not some essence that's separate from body, and earth, and life itself. It's everything, all, and we are fortunate to be aware of this. To know ourselves as soul. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Absolutes

Absolutes:

without absolutes - it's all really too subtle for words, defying description, and phrases structured in a way that makes too definite of a claim. Most especially to write without including a sense of poetry, adding emphasis to the given topic at the expense of the essence that's implied. To state anything as an absolute seems to remove me from my poetic sense. Life doesn't seem any certain way to me, it's too inclusive to declare a truth. 

everything I write is for the essence of it all. 

even science works in theories, testing every claim, allowing additional information to added through the years. My life is no different, a working theory on what's true for every moment, but at no point finding myself definite with belief. There is no issue being proven wrong, with nothing held as absolute it's all an easy letting go. 

my every belief is weightless. 

for me, it's all poetry, a dedication to the lyrical moment at hand and nothing more. If I give an absolute it's not to be believed. I only know life by living it. My failures are numerous. It's all been so beautiful, so wild to be held by such an allowing life. If I've awaken to anything it's only been to life, that I'm lived by this allowing gift, never true and definite in anything but this. 

what I write, is simply an aspect of this, it's part of life with a wish to be expressed. There is nothing declared here, no absolutes to offer. What's here is my theory of the moment, easily proven wrong through any following moment. Yet perhaps there's some essence is implied, a sense of how life flows, a hint of it's great mystery...

a truth, for just this moment.

~

Peace, Eric 

 

Regardless

Regardless: 

of just being alive, regardless - and with this there is no argument for any favored philosophy, it doesn't matter if awareness continues when the conscious mind is gone. For right now, this one precious moment, our life is lived regardless of it all. 

my mind is curious too, I find myself with middle of the night questions of existence, wondering at my role within the world, and the extent of my capacity as awareness. Yet these are just games I play, riddles, and mystery drops clues for me to follow without ever a true conclusion. There's so much I'll never know, and I have no desire to base my life entirely on speculation. What I have is right now, and I'm aware, full of curiosity - and this infinite moment to explore. 

why seek more than this? 

of course it's human nature to impose limits, and then to reach further, to advance the cause of curiosity itself. But I'll never be able to explain the mystery of this present moment, of being aware of morning sounds, the scent of coffee in the air, and the magic of words as they appear and find their way across this page. I have no idea what my very next thought will be, and yet fingers somehow find themselves in motion, a phrase of words arrive for me to claim. I'm aware of this all, yet in no way it's cause, nor even the central authority that makes a call for it to happen. There's simply writing, and the thought of "me" is included in the process. 

so, life too is given, and I am somehow a presence found amidst. I'm aware. Surrendering any desire to make this anything more, abandoning faith and cherished concepts. I have this moment, so fully alive through every aspect of existence - cells communicating as their function, organs complete in symphony to each other, skin and breath touched to air, and this continues even further. I am complete right now, no wish for a complicated explanation. 

I'm just alive, regardless of how, or even way.

~

Peace, Eric 

No Promise

No Promise: 

it seems important for me to not hold even awareness as any final, permanent state, existing on it's own, separate from any other point of life. There's no promise of it's stay, no proof that it remains longer than my current conscious state. Of course it may indeed be eternal - yet I have no need to believe in it's everlasting stay, nor that it may prove to be fleeting. 

the true gift is every moment found aware.

awareness is the immediate promise of this present moment, and speculation of any further time only serves as a delusion. There's simply noway for me to know what's certain past this moment. Each instant is it's own awakening, a conspiracy of miracles to bring me to right now. To be awake isn't lasting, it's an instant renewal, a shock to find myself aware at all, and it reoccurs through every changing scene and situation. 

that I am awake, and aware is a current miracle. 

to add anything to this one moment found aware, would only be a story, it's asking more than any moment can provide. Right now is always enough, and it truly has to be as it's all I ever have. To add a story to this, no mater how deeply believed or cherished, distracts me from the simplicity of just being alive and aware, moment to every precious moment. 

this isn't to say that I disbelieve any teachers who claim to know the secrets of awareness. There are many people wiser than me, perhaps with deeper insights too. I leave every teaching to the teachers. I make no claims outside this moment. Right now...I am aware. That's enough for me to know...

and to truly cherish. 

~

Peace, Eric 

A True Letting Go

A true letting go: 

it's not the breath by itself so much, as it is its surrender and the trust of its return. This is all of life really, a rhythm of what's given, sustaining, and released without my hold. But the breath itself is so personal, intimate in the ease of its caress. Every breath is a true letting go, a death practice, without any sure guarantee that another will appear. My faith is in the natural order of things, that my next breath will always come until the very last is given.  

my faith is in the moment.

every bit of life occurs now, in some form of rhythm, motion and the apparent stillness of what's to come - life is always at once. The breath itself is immediate, at most times barely noticed in its arrival and release. Yet it's force is vital, my connection to the world through its unseen way. The breath, like every aspect of life, comes without promise, it's given away in mystery, and it's every return is a form of grace. My surrender is each last breath, and in this way, for however long their stay - I am truly sustained by grace and mystery. 

each breath has an instant of between, a just before moment of it's next arrival, a depth of quiet, the stillness of my world. Here, is my point of notice, a checkpoint of some kind, that if nothing else occurred right now, not another breath, nor one more heartbeat - the world would still continue on, mystery would reclaim me as its own, my time of grace complete. 

through that moment of between...

I see life's gift. 

~

Peace, Eric 

True Self

True self:

there is no true self - there's no separate awareness free of suffering, untouched by sorrow, nor without the pleasures known through the simple joys of life. To believe so is to imply a subtle sense of duality that just isn't found. I am not removed from any experience, every aspect of life is part of my belonging. If there is a true self it is vast,  it's everything at once, and includes all of joy and sorrows. 

a true self is not left untouched by life. 

as well, I find there is no absence of a self - emptiness is it's own immediate fulfillment, and I appear through an intimate sense of its expression. There's no point in denying any aspect of life as false. Even illusions are true in their appearance, however briefly that they're seen. The singer Donovan sang in true Zen fashion,  "first there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is" and these lines are repeated in closing through circular fashion. 

who know's where it truly ends? 

my own experience is life - it's personal, I find myself involved through every detail, a participant to it's sorrows and joys. There's no duality to any of this simply because there is no duality. There's just life through all of it's expressions. Yet it's impersonal as well. I'm not defined by any borders, life carries me from one expression to the next, an abstract design without true lines. In every sense I am empty of self, and at every moment there's a self felt keenly alive. 

first there is a mountain...

~

Peace, Eric 

Let Go

Let go:

it's with things let go - completely of their own accord, and at some point they simply no longer call to our attention. This is where we truly meet, our empathetic connection, where what's deeply felt belongs to us all. What's between us now are only thoughts, beliefs that keep us from the recognition of what we share. Yet every deep hurt belongs to us together a common ache and brokenness, a pain shared by right of our true kinship. 

words can't find this empathetic place, they only hint of it's existence, urging us to the edge of personal sorrow, our meeting point of loss. Here, there comes a tentative letting go - a first step towards a spaciousness that holds us through a shared embrace, a beckoning of our belonging. At this edge we lose faith in everything but our own sorrow, too enormous for one to hold alone. It's now, here, that we entirely let go, or more truly seen, the ownership of all our pain gives way completely. 

and here, we meet. 

yes, we still and always hurt, empathy only cures our aloneness. 

but it's a larger world now, we hold each others hurt between us, shared through it's belonging. Your sorrow is mine, my ache is yours as well. Ours is the only sure healing. What's really let go of is the illusion that we suffer alone, and deeper still it's seen that empathy is our one existence, the reality of all that's shared between us. 

with things let go...

there is only our together. 

~

Peace, Eric 

No Claims

No claims:

the relief is that it makes no claims - it's simply seeing, listening, and more subtle still, to just let go and feel the world against my skin, sensations of an intimate connection to it all. It's really not quite like this though, these words imply a separation of experience of sorts. This is where words will make a specific claim in their use, adding duality to the moment where none is found. What there is - is presence lending itself to be seen, heard, or touched through a moment to be experienced as such. Or to simplify further, it's the world happening...

and my great fortune to somehow be aware. 

the moment itself makes no claims.

questions come from its discussion, language breaking the moment into parts, beliefs come in to play as well. It becomes more than what it originally was, than what it is right now. The world is always happening, constant, and I always belong to its motion. This moment there's seeing without claim of seer, there's listening only to the pureness of sound. Now, the world is just a single touch, registered as the softness of a morning breeze. It's not more than this, it's never more than the exactness of this moment. Only my words added in description, and truthfully they belong as well, in their own way, another expression found, an experience of the written world. 

so, I find no argument of duality, it's the experience of an apparent other - but it no longer holds claim to anything more. The relief is to let things be, no wish to find myself enlightened, to not rush myself in to every situation as if the experience needed some final say. The world is happening without me...

and yet I find myself here, present to it all,

aware. 

~

Peace, Eric