Of Between

Of between:

there is no true measure of between, no moment that stands apart from the space of its caress - reality is far to seamless, to fluid, for us to find anything other than a continuous becoming through the various guise of form as well as the defining grace of its formless nature. What's thought of as between is nothing less than the potential for the world to be.

everything lends itself for the sake of something other.

or at least by appearance. 

reality shows that the world is less than solid, being spacious and energetic by structure. A flower is different than air by matters of degree, a simply arrangement of the infinitely small gathered for the sake of form. It's the Heart Sutra demonstrated by the beauty of design. A flower somehow given gain in its appearance. Yet never truly different from the air of its surrounding. 

it's true for us as well, owing our existence as much to space as to the form we so easily rely on. We too are energy in arrangement, a structure touched by an endless reach of emptiness as our source. There is no between found, no point of our departure for formlessness to be found. It's all right here, seamless still, and existing always as the whole. 

of between - and really this is simply a gift given as distinctions. It's so a flower can be known, so existence can show itself through the appearance of more, other, and the infinite possibilities of its creation. Life is the art of form arranged by the emptiness of its true nature. All made possible by the illusion of between. 

~

Peace, Eric