Mostly

mostly, I just surrender to the process, not planning any writing theme until I reach the page and then simply waiting for words to come, being surprised at what unfolds. It's joyful writing, but at times there's still a bit of apprehension, even after so many years of this surrender. In some ways it's certainly easier to have a plan, an outline of specific intent to start the writing off and provide a sense of direction. Yet even as I consider this I'm struck by how little control life actually provides me in any endeavor. 

indeed, mostly life is all a surrender.

really, it's mostly about faith. 

faith isn't a word I use often, it's not a reoccurring theme for me to write of - it's generally heard as a religious term, having faith in a higher power to guide our steps through life. I guess it's easier in a sense to turn control over to a source that is regarded as superior to us in every way, having faith that we are supported in every endeavor. At the same time, there's belief that we've been granted free will and that we determine our own destination. That's a curious paradox, never quite explained in many religious texts, but having struck closest to me in description by the Bhagavad Gita quote (2:47) "You have the right to work, but never to the fruit of work. You should never engage in action for the sake of reward, nor should you long for inaction." The Gita continues sage advice and urges us to consider that work done with anxiety is inferior to any task performed with calm and ease, that our actions are surrendered to Brahma alone and rewards are offered through his grace. 

this is a faith I understand. 

and mostly as I consider Brahma to simply be another term for life, a name given for the process of living, dynamic and continuous. It's what I surrender to, writing is the process of life being given my own unique expression, a flower's bloom for a certain moment on a sunlit page. My every expression is momentary, a chance occurrence of words and inspiration being met at my location, my only real talent being of timing and consistency of appearing daily to receive whatever words are offered. Yes, mostly, I surrender to the process of Brahma, writing for the sake of words themselves, serving their expression. It's a faith in which I understand completely, though still with some apprehension of it's everyday appearance. This too, it seems, is in process of surrender. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Return To Gratitude

and always I return to gratitude, a continuous practice of simply noticing all I have now even during, perhaps most especially during times of seeming loss and grief.  It's not a denial of the present moment of hurt, nor willfully forgetting any trace of pain. I return to gratitude as default mode, that I am grateful for the very breath that sustains me through these trying times, my heartbeat is a thankful prayer of my continuation, being able to grieve at all for what's been lost and having the strength to carry on. Again, it's only about what's noted, nothing forced, just a deep appreciation for all that's granted.

and indeed, the list is infinite.

it's a return to gratitude, or maybe better said a return to noticing life, of how I'm supported by an environment of conscious cooperation. I return only due to my forgetful nature, taking for granted the atmosphere for breath, a body that works wonders even as it ages, and that friends abound even through the loneliest times. Yes, sometimes these most vital things often fail to gain my notice, their light seemingly dimmed by my own view of darkness. 

but always I return.

this is why I call is a continuous practice, as life certainly contains its share of things to grieve for, people lost to death or relationships ending, health declines and the body ages. Life is quite often filled with pain and offers no escape from this reality. It's just how things are. Yet the paradox here is beauty, curiosity, and awe in contrast to all that's taken and lost, existing at once and seamlessly together through the endlessness of life's expression. There is always this, what I have now, light as well as darkness, beauty shown to me in such unique and curious ways, and I am constantly in awe of my surroundings. So much has been given to me, continues to be given, and I imagine my final breath is still a gift existing only for that moment. Through my forgetfulness, consumed by deepest grief and loss - this is what I return to, life, a paradox that even now so much is still given. 

always, I return to gratitude. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Greater Hush

Greater hush: 

even more quiet than usual now, fresh snow creates a greater hush to my early morning, only house sounds hum and creak, while outside lies in the stillness of winter. It's the perfect time to just sit and be as still as the morning too, allowing words to find me at their will, and otherwise I remain in silence. These moments seem rare, and perhaps they are, yet really this silence is an ever present condition, that I always contain the stillness of an early winter morning. 

it's just seldom that I notice. 

what I most love about noticing these times are the blended moments of stillness and sound, how the quiet simply parts to allow something to be heard, and just as easily returns to it's silent hold of the world. It's as if true silence can't and won't be disturbed, every sound is allowed its moment, cushioned by that greater hush of magic that's ever present to these early mornings. But still it's a fragile time, never meant to last through the gathering activities of the morning, the world awakening in sound and busyness, becoming too much for the greater hush to hold. 

and yet in a way it does, it remains in such a way as to be present for the following morning, for the next snow that helps cushion every sound. In truth it's my own internal silence that's found these early mornings, noticed and nurtured through awareness to the point that stillness gains the prominence of my attention, a reality all it's own and every sound arrives briefly as a visit. Stillness is my true home, and the magic of this greater hush being my real and only nature. 

silence remains, always, sounds emerge from and fade within its existence. So often I forget this as the day increases in volume and the faster events of daily sounds. It seems the busy day gains the edge of this advantage, silence being a rare occurrence. Even now, still so early in the morning and my quiet world seems shattered, my own greater hush is gone, it's magic dissipated in the cold winter air. But I remind myself that stillness itself does not recede, remaining present in its hold of every sound. It's still a time of magic, perhaps even more so now, a reminder of my own interior silence, the reality of my greater hush still and always present. 

waiting only for my notice. 

~

Peace, Eric  

Things Grateful For

Things grateful for: 

life is a display of things grateful for as well as those that gain our disillusionment, receive our harshest judgement, or fail to even reach the point of our attention. Often there's a change between these views in a single notice, consciousness shifts to sudden appreciation for something long ignored as if seen in new light, or we lose a sense of gratitude for a person no longer seen in vital role of purpose. This can happen without us even knowing it occurred all, that gratefulness itself no longer serves an essential role to our daily concerns. 

we take so much for granted.

yet to be thankful, our conscious awareness of things grateful for, is such a lovely practice. It's a mindful appreciation of what each and any moment holds to support or enhance our very existence. Somethings we take for granted our of great importance, such as the ease of how we take a breath, functioning so perfectly that we fail to give much notice util an issue comes to hand. One breath taken has infinite air to draw from, an entire sky given for the atmosphere of life. We live by single breath, just one oft repeated for a lifetime. To bring our awareness to the breath is an act of appreciation for how our bodies perform such a marvelous function, a cooperation of lungs, heart, and vital elements that require none of our attention, no effort of our own will for its continuation. We simply breathe. Noticing this, one breath, so easily forgotten in its gentle passing, and yet we are alive by it's continuous rhythm. Similar too is each beat of our heart, blood flowing through rivers of veins, even how our skin registers sensations and regulates the body's temperature, protecting us from germs. This moment alone, from breath, heartbeat, to touch - offers everything to be grateful for. 

if we only notice.

right now, of things grateful for, and I take my first sip of coffee, warm sensation to my lips, steam mingles with breath, and long familiar bitter taste is welcomed by my tongue. I am grateful for every aspect of this experience, but more so, that I'm able to be aware of this at all, how I can notice single aspect of a singular, seamless, expression of first sip of coffee. An entire world is involved in this, no, the universe really, it's all a participation of the whole to bring my favorite coffee cup to my lips. Of things grateful for...and with just a sip...

it's all the world.

~

Peace, Eric 

That We Sin

that we sin, or so often told that we're sinners born to be saved by a certain faith, or by belief in a source and power higher than our own. It's inferred that we come into this world broken and with inherent flaws that will never be healed in a lifetime. We're born with an immediate need for a savior. Yet by no means is this ever true, not from a baby's first perfect breath to last one ever taken and through no moment ever lived between the two. 

we sin only in the original sense.

 our innocence remaining always true. 

the Greek origin of the word sin is to simply miss the mark, an occasion we all share and repeat through life. No one's aim is perfect. But it's the mark aimed for that's our concern, and it always seems somewhat ill defined, a target that's moved beyond our reach of aim with every attempt to find it. Many faiths define it as anything that goes against the laws of the creator, and this statement along should immediately set us free from any notion that we sin. 

it's simply impossible to oppose a law of nature.

ever.

and that we exist at all is all the proof offered, or needed, to believe it's so. We are life, an example of its varied perfection, made exactly as we are by the laws of creation. No mark has been missed in the divine aim to bring us here - from the point of an energetic singularity in great expansions, stars dying in the great fortune of the elements of our design, to the near infinite strand of DNA that traces our origins to the very mark of time. We've never sinned, more truly we're beyond the point of aim. There is no target to measure the scope of our existence, no standard of creation that ever needs to be met. We are,  we exist, and that's it, a perfect example of creation. Nothing opposes this. Our proof is by living this example, each breath drawn by it's design of function, heart beating without conscious effort to make it so, and that the world and its environment is given in support of it all. 

it seems the aim of life is true.

that we sin is simply a miscommunication, better told, we're humans, divine by right of our existence, pure in the deepest sense of how every aspect of life belongs in its perfection. We will err, mistakes made through the curse of living. But every target is illusory, a product of imagination inherited through a long line of mistaken beliefs and wayward notions. That we sin is to miss the mark of joyful living, that we aim outside the scope of what a single moment offers. This is it, now, here, the single point of our salvation.

nothing needs to be aimed for...

this moment is the only target.

~

Peace, Eric 

Without Asking

Without answers: 

inquiry opens us to a world without answers, or more so to a world without absolute need for answers - to ask "who am I?" is to give the request to silence, allowing ourselves to return to the original point of not knowing, being spacious, and open to any possibility. We inquire, asking questions regarding our true nature, mysteries of the world, and immediately surrender to our own revelation of silence. The inquiry itself contains our answers.

so what is the revelation?

who are we?

simply ask.

listen.

we are without answers, or at least not ones that lend themselves so easily to words. At first we are given the quick response of identity, name, career, and every social status. Yet those are labels, or actions we perform. Not one reveals who we are. This is a process of dismissal, of not accepting the easy return of what's apparent, there is no term nor role that contains a truthful answers.

so we return to asking.

dismissing.

until...

yes, until...nothing - because certainly there is no answer, inquiry is an endless revelation of show, shifting us from seekers in search of definitive knowledge to explores of all that's readily shown. Asking for a revelation is to accept the immediacy of its mystery. 

and we are given a lifetime to explore.

without answers,

there's just the asking...

~

Peace, Eric 

Agreement

Agreement:

it's all in agreement, at least that's the simplicity of being, everything fits in with this, that we are being with whatever is present to the moment, no exceptions. Right now I'm awake in the very early morning, sitting at my desk and waiting for my coffee to cool enough to sip. As words appear and take shape to form a phrase I type, pause to consider, and once more a flow of words. I am being as I am most every morning, before dawn meditation, writing, coffee. It's the consistency of being, for me at least, but on a deeper note there's emotions and other issues at play, whatever mood I seem to be, how my body feels today, my specific state of health - this is all beingness aligned to present point, an agreement to conditions found, just as they appear. 

even my wish for something other belongs. 

that I am being discontent. 

nothing is excluded.

and that's the great agreement, that absolutely nothing is left out from this, everything is being exactly and only what it is and could ever possibly be. It's that simple. More so, it's truly what we are on our most fundamental level, an agreement of molecules to form cells to be mind and body, for particles to swirl themselves as atoms and agree to be a common bond of matter - and for emptiness to be the allowing factor of this all, the very essence of everything that's being now and will ever be. 

beingness is simply emptiness being form.

our agreement is to be whatever's present to the moment, from current mood to the motion of our world, we are being expressed exactly as we are right now. It's really quiet beautiful and even marvelous to consider, of infinite points through all of existence, and here we are, being, exactly and only, what only we could ever be. 

this.

Peace, Eric 

Storm

to just sit, and with no small degree of courage, allow every confrontation of thought, sensation, and emotion to simply show itself, a revelation of our own mind in the turmoil taken as it's natural state. We believe our minds a storm. But they're not, our natural point is the calm allowing that gives every storm passage. With no exceptions. Of course we each believe otherwise, or we do for a certain length and time until for whatever reason we gather the courage to sit with whatever makes an appearance, sitting through every show of storm the mind will offer. 

and continuing to just sit.

until nothing happens.

that's the true revelation, our mind is motion, Buddhist label this the five aggregates, being material form, feelings,perceptions, volition, and sensory consciousness, all all of this arises and passes continuously. It certainly sounds exhausting. Mindfulness is the practice of noting this motion, what arises, and seeing how none of it has true substance of its own, real in it's effects, yet illusory still. Seeing this, we come to a point of clarity, untouched by any storm, spacious by our very nature. It's a worthy endeavor, a life worth's practice of seeing who we are. 

yet it's not exactly what I'm thinking of here. 

it seems the aggregates are always in motion, indeed, being so by nature. Mindfulness offers the opportunity of noting their existence, being watchful to the subtle point of their appearance, not interfering with their length of stay, and again watching how shift and appear as something other, constantly arises, passing, and arising once more. 

this isn't about being watchful, at least not truly so, not in a mindful manner - it's about allowing, sitting through a mind storm with a willingness to simply, and only allow ourselves to....be. Just this really, nothing more than being present to whatever comes through mind, a participant if called for by tears, or venting rage, laughter, or calmness of a smile. Nothing is denied, whatever the moment offered is exactly what we are in the sense of being joined by its appearance. We're not separate from mind and gain no distance through our watch. 

we're only, simply, presence.

allowing.

and brave through our willingness to sit with this, anything at all, and how we're reveled to be the motion of our very world, shifting too by mood or calm, everything allowed. It's not about gaining a sense of spaciousness, realizing our true nature, no, it's more truly seeing that it's all spaciousness, emptiness in process of appearance - and seeing this gives us courage to allow, sitting through any and every storm by virtue of it being our own becoming. 

everything allowed.

~

Peace, Eric 

Navigating

Navigating: 

that it all fits directly to the moment, just as things are and without hope for change - yet this doesn't mean there isn't a wish for different conditions, a desire for our lives to be other than they are right now. Everything belongs and this certainly includes our wanting greater comfort, peace, or anything that seems to suit our lives better. This is only about what's present, where we find ourselves each and any moment, and navigating our surrender to whatever now unfolds. 

of course the truth is that every moment is our surrender, life navigates us here, exactly to this point, and all in spite of any of our best wishes. Right now is what we have. Only this. And yes, this could be the moment of our great heart ache, finding ourselves broken, giving up any thought of repair. Life indeed brings us here, sadly, sometimes often. 

these are the moments of our surrender. 

this moment.

whatever it holds.

this isn't something that we actually do, it's not a plan of any action, it's all more natural than that, effortless really. Life is navigating our surrender to each moment completely on it's own. We're simply not in charge here, more so, we're the process of this letting go, each point is our surrender to what's present, and seeing this we recognize ourselves as the very motion of this change. 

of all change.

we are fluid by our very nature.

motion.

navigating.

so this is where we find ourselves, perhaps a moment of pain, sorrow, or maybe a time of joy, whichever point is our surrender. Life continues in its course. We are completely of this process, life itself, navigating without concern of any outcome. We're delivered exactly where we are, now, and immediately moved on to another place of our surrender. 

life is endless in this way. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Difficult Season

Difficult season:

winters are hard months for me, true for many as well, be it seasonal depression or just the restriction of outdoor movement and length of daylight. It's a difficult season for some to make their way through. It is for me. Yet I do appreciate it's stark beauty, trees seen in the elegance of their lines, reminding me much of charcoal drawings, especially with the contrast of snow added to the view. Yes, there is beauty here and I am grateful for its note, a small gift received to navigate a difficult season. 

perhaps it's age now, the bite of cold deeper, lasting longer even after I escape its reach. As a child a played for hours in the snow, impervious to cold, only breaking for the warmth of lunch and then eagerly out for more. Only a few years ago I would spend hours on the trails, running and hiking through all conditions that winder could throw and still I stayed in motion. Being outdoors was my home, any weather found. But's its a more difficult season now, so many ways, and for whatever reasons it weighs heaviest on emotions, my mood matching the length of darkness for the day.

I miss the light.

and most of all I miss the green display of spring, from first bud in tentative reach all the way to the verdant  offering of its later season. Green, life, the vibrancy that arrives with light's return. The early signs of life are unafraid to brace the force of cold and venture to the touch of light. There are hints of green at first, a few leaves to lead the way from winter. I love to see this arrival of promise, not of hope really, but of something deeper, more primitive perhaps. The hint of green that arrives in the subtle point between  true seasons, earliest bud, the length of light increasing - this all speaks to me of winter's purpose, showing me of unseen, dormant sources working through the darkest days. What I am really shown is the seamlessness of seasons, an uninterrupted grace of letting go and all that returns without my effort. Each season holds the promise of life, from autumn's surrender to the vibrant green of spring and summer. Winter holds this promise as well, a difficult season, and yet so full of life in the earliest of stirrings. 

it's the promise of becoming. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Guest

Guest: 

it's more that nothing seems gains the same purchase now, no firm and lasting hold to the things that used to bring me low. Dark moods would seem to arrive on a whim, lingering for days in various shades of their intensity. They still visit and I will often feel the edge of their approach, knowing that soon my life will bid them welcome with little choice, depression, in all of it's stages and degrees, gives little say to its arrival, and those who suffer this wish it wasn't so, that we could simply turn this guest away and refuse it entrance to our lives. Yet sadly, things don't seem to work this way, there are tools to ease this burden, therapy, medication for those in need, but nothing really prevents they're arrival. It's just how things are, the reality of depression. 

compared to so many, I've been fortunate indeed. My life is seldom troubled in such a way that brings upheaval, no medications, nothing that seems more threatening than the heavy weight of sadness. Of course sadness doesn't really capture this sense of weight at all, it's a pure and deep intensity that touches to the bone. There isn't quite the word for it though, it's mood is too familiar to be named, as if there were a term for the feel and weight of skin against us. It's the same with calling it a guest, a visiting mood or condition, it's much more intimate than anything that visits, existing more truly as a part of me, no sense wishing it as anything other. I have come to the point of accepting all I am, every aspect and through all that happens, nothing is apart from me, nothing separate from this moment. 

no matter what it holds.

and that bring me back to start, for whatever reason, perhaps for many, there's an openness now, a more spacious quality to my daily living. As mentioned, nothing seems gains the same purchase as before, depression still existing, and often with the same intensity as ever. Yet something now is different, a subtle shift in my perception, that this, and whatever else appears, it's simply how things are, not a guest other than my own wounded self seeking comfort. Everything's accepted, belonging here, welcomed by virtue of its appearance. I'm certainly not always happy that this is so, my welcome is often disgruntled and at first might seem unwilling. There's still depression, dark moods arriving on a whim - but I'm whole, and I see this, my own allowing nature, spaciousness itself. Nothing gains a lasting purchase here, and everything is welcomed.

exactly as it is.

(even if there's a wish to change it)

~

Peace, Eric 

When It Happens

When it happens:

it's when it happens by itself, let's call it grace, and most often it's in those early hours before the hint of dawn, sky still holding to the edge of night, yet the world seems to know that light is soon. There's a sense of shifting patterns, time is different at this hour, things  seem to linger for a last embrace of dark before morning parts its way. 

secrets are shared and grace is given.

when it happens.

for me, this is the hour of a quiet mind, and not just for myself alone but for the world it seems. There's a collective hush, as if we're afraid to startle ourselves and move too soon from this place between realms. Night still holds a certain claim to those awake now, the mind is slower, thoughts not yet prevalent in their normal sense of rush. Nothing is hurried. And this is when it sometimes happens, grace appears, and everything seems to settle to a point of letting go, appearance and surrender happening at once and seen now as the very same, nothing lasting beyond the span of a single breath taken, and yet nothing lost as well. Whatever's found within this moment truly belongs, completely as it is, exact, and is immediately let go to become a new appearance, something other, but somehow still the same, remaining true as essence, the energy of some singular expression. Breathing in...I am...and with this comes an identity of self and history, a future full of hope and expectations. Breathing out and suddenly I'm gone, surrendered to the moment, only presence now, aware, accepting. 

with another breath...

and I'm everything at once.

self and selfless, presence, appearance as well as the motion of its surrender. There's just no difference any longer, no, it's always been a seamless moment, and only now it's seen. It's grace, and it happens by itself, most often in those morning hours before the hint of dawn. But of course it's always this way and these early hours before dawn only reveal the open secret of existence. 

it's when it happens by itself, seeing, spontaneous in my surrender, grace - and this is why I wake so early, to have my own secret whispered to me again through the voiceless language spoken and heard only in the hours before dawn. It can happen anytime, every moment is its own revelation. Yet it's those early hours that draw me from bed, urging my awakening...

whispering. 

and I listen.

~

Peace, Eric 

Very Least

Very least:

at the very least we share existence, a common air for breath and environment for our support. There are molecules shared between us, a trade of atoms, particles and the emptiness of their reality. At the very least, we are energy, essence, expressed in the uniqueness of our form. 

yet always one existence.

at the very least we are aware, and there's an understanding of this basic bottom line even if we're unable to give it proper words. We know that this too is shared between us, and that it lends itself to the experience of our aliveness, a vibrancy of qualities and senses. 

we recognize reality. 

and there's so much more to this, just existing at all against improbable odds of life occurring exactly as it does, and that we're here at this particular point of time, together, aware. At the very least we are a miracle. This should be enough for us, this one and only moment that we know for certain, being alive now and that we share this in the common bond of breath and air, molecules, atoms and their particles sweeping through infinite emptiness to swirl us to existence. Contemplating this - and I am filled with awe of just this very moment, alive, noting each breath in a pass of air against my lips, giving attention to the qualities of all that's noticed, sensations, softness of early morning sounds, thoughts so subtle in their arrival, and that I'm aware of it all, every note of my existence. 

at the very least, 

for just this moment.

surely this is love, pure, and without conditions. Everything is simply recognized for the value of its presence, the exact of how things are, and without need of label, nor consideration of worth beyond the moment of  this appearance. 

at the very least, 

there's love.

~

Peace, Eric 

Never Really Alone

Never really alone:

that I'm never really alone, or perhaps better said - is that all there is appears from the same seamless source as I do, that I have the company of the world shared within my view. This isn't to make the claim of any ultimate source of pure awareness, it's too personal for that, intimate, and only what comes to me from my own seeing of how life flows from every point of my attention. Wherever I turn there is life and any inward glance reveals me to belong here, an aspect of this all inclusive view, and at no point found separate from any other aspect of the world. 

it's impossible to every truly be alone.

there is only our aloneness.

a singularity of all existence.

this.

and my own deep loneliness of many years largely vanished with this realization, nothing being absent from my life, indeed, the impossibility that anything could even be missing. Everything is here, present, always, and yes, appearances shift and seem to hold a different world with every view, but essence remains, life, unchanged to the fundamental reality of existence.

that I'm never really alone allows for a certain sense of loneliness to appear, being more at ease with whatever now emerges, every experience simply being life in varied expression. Nothing is denied, yet not everything is believed to be completely so, perhaps true only in the moment's sense, but passing, shifting even now to another appearance. With this seen there is no longer a restlessness of pursuit, every contradiction of thought and view now held in seamless fashion. 

everything belongs.

yes, there is aloneness, singular, one existence, and with this realization none of us are ever really alone, not existing apart from anything, and most surely each other. We belong to this aloneness, being all that truly ever is, and all that ever will be.

this.

~

Peace, Eric 

Agenda

Agenda:

without idea or sudden inspiration, that's how it sometimes happens, arriving to my desk with intent to write but not yet with words that are ready to reach a theme nor fill a page. I have a willingness to wait, patience, coffee to sip. Writing often has it's own agenda, or perhaps it's more true that words and inspiration do - ideas flourish on their own and arrive with a subtle impact to my mind, so seamless and with ease that I claim them as my inspiration. 

really though, it all belongs to mystery.

and it's important, for me at least, to not make any assertions on how mystery should unfold, keeping my opinion to a preference, no demands as to when words will make their appearance, or even to ask for their arrival. Again, writing has it's own agenda and it's intimately involved with mystery. My interference only seems to complicate the matter as now I introduce an agenda of effort and will, not an intention, but a forceful ego declaration that mystery meet me on my terms. 

mystery is never forced.

writing, at it's purest point, is always effortless.

so my only role is to be without agenda, or to match mine with a greater one than my own, allowing myself to belong to the process of words and their pause, having faith that ideas gather in silence and arrive to me only when inspiration is ready to be told. With this in mind I am content to wait, at peace with silence and my time at hand, to sip my coffee in the early hours of the morning. It's still just before the first song of even the earliest of birds, fresh snow muting and distance sounds. So quiet, a stillness that's hushed against my ears in soft touch, as if another presence offering its embrace. I'm listening, and it's to nothing at all, to silence itself, listening to moments pass that are not yet measured by the reach of time, a quality only given to hours just before dawn. I'm listening. 

this too is writing...

and I am part it's agenda.

~

Peace, Eric 

Once There Was An Eden

Once there was an Eden:

once there was an Eden, and this was home, earth, not a far place to one day attain but immediate in its presence. We were never asked to leave, belonging here, and our only task was to honor what was so freely given, to care for the holiness of land and the bounty that it offered. This was the garden of God and considered so due to our communication with the land, everything sacred, speaking to us of healing and nourishment, what plants, roots, and fruit to gather and what to avoid. We learned secrets of cultivation, stewardship of plants and animals, caring for the land. 

once there was an Eden.

home.

we are in crisis, Eden burning, no longer seen as sacred and communication with earth all but gone. We were never asked to leave the garden, but willingly abandoned our home, polluted, defiled, and gave worship to the very things that caused its destruction.  Yet this is still, and always, holy land, and will speak to us again if we listen. It's right now that we have the true tree of knowledge, a choice to make, and with nothing forbidden. We can be our own savior or the instrument of the earths destruction, and the temptation is one of profit at the cost Eden, an ego's choice above the voice of spirit urging our return to listening to the land, relearning secrets of its healing ways. 

once there was an Eden,

and still,

a promise of return.

"all the way to heaven is heaven" said Saint Catherine of Siena and where does this leave off, at any point does earth cease to be the garden? This is our only promised land and we are undeserving of more if we fail in our care. What we are asked to do is simple; to listen again to the earth, remembering its voice as our own, that there is only one sacred song and it sings of our inclusion. We weren't given Eden, we come of its own soil, pure land ourselves, root deep, organic of presence and soul. 

we are of home...

all the way to Eden.

~

Peace, Eric 

Appears

Appears:

without theme, nor idea of even next word - writing follows, and I'm at ease with every pause, not rushing for the page to be filled, patient, trusting in whatever appears. This is largely how I find myself writing, simply with the intent to arrive at the keyboards, allowing words to find me each morning, inspiration to unfold by moments measured by a phrase or sometimes just a single word. If there is a way of writing, a path as it were, for me it would be guided by a letting go, a surrender of any belief that I'm an author, no longer in charge of means or process.

of course I never was.

words arrive completely on their own.

 everything I write is mystery, and even with an outlined plan or idea firmly in mind, mystery takes hold in a course that leaves it all behind. I honestly can't say what the very next word will be, and it amazes me to see how spontaneously things appear, not only through writing but the entire world as well, the universe writ large in the mystery of appearance. How could I possible believe myself in charge of anything, laying claim to these gifts received as if manifested by intent or force of will. These aren't my words, and I'm not the one inspired - yet words follow, inspiration present, happening, and I find myself a fortunate participant in all, not an author, but belonging to the process, an aspect of its flow.

it would be easy now to claim this, as writing completes itself, mystery retires from this prose, a sense of ownership rushes to believe itself an author. That's part of the story I guess, not anymore in my control than any single written word. This appearance of a self is just as spontaneous, a process too, and now it wishes to take hold of what's nearly finished. Funny, how it all appears, words, self, beliefs, and inspiration. 

and somehow too, a smile now appears.

it's simply part of the story.

~

Peace, Eric 

Clearly

Clearly:

clearly, it's all consciousness - that I'm aware of anything is by basis of a foundational reality of awareness consisting of the universe itself, nothing but this, and I find it obvious to note. I arrive to this through my own experience, easily, a simple inquiry offered by the British philosopher Douglas Harding, to first look and find the absence of my head, a serious investigation of seeing, pointing to the obviousness of what can never be found by own eyes. This is done with curiosity and innocence, setting aside any forgone conclusions of what's believed to found, looking for myself without aide of photo or mirror, actually pointing and searching towards the source that holds the origin of my view. 

what I find is clearly my own conclusion.

without too much detail, I will say that in the absence of what's expected, of not finding my head where it should be found - the entire world is revealed, no, even further still, as the far reach of sun, moon, and stars are shown by my absence too. From this initial pointing, an inquiry of what seems so obvious, and yet in place of the appearance of my head - awareness. 

clearly.

everything is present here, appearing, and nothing claimed as my own, only presence, aware. It's with this that I make the claim that there is nothing but consciousness, awareness being all that's noted and found, and all based upon the present evidence of this seeing. 

and yet,

none of this is absolutely so, experience being only mine, and I have no idea if this is so for you, anyone, and if it matters much at all. It's simply true for me and remains obvious with every further looking. This isn't my belief, but my own self and selfless discovery, repeated for the sake of awe and wonder it produces, a practice only in the sense of my enjoyment. Consciousness may only extend to the limits of my noting, and yet my world remains aware. 

clearly.

and this all I really know.

~

Peace, Eric 

Of Strength and Love

Of strength and love: 

today marks the eleventh anniversary of my mother's death due to complications of Alzheimer's along with a fractured hip that accelerated the process in just the matter of a few days. Along with my father and my siblings I was one of her caregivers, fortunate to have the time and energy to help my dad with this and fulfill his wishes of keeping my mother home for as long as possible, comfortable and at peace. For the most part we succeeded with this, although it certainly took a toll on my father, emotionally and health, as he suffered a stroke a few years into her care. It's amazing how quickly he recovered from his stroke, regained his strength and immediately took control of her care again. A lesson of strength and love, true care, that's impossible for me to forget and brought a resolve to my years of caring for my dad in his later years. I became a better person caring for my mother, following my father's example of patience, tenderness, and holding steady to the importance of not forgetting the person suffering due to Alzheimer's, that my mother, his wife, was still and always present, not defined by her disease, and the depth of love and respect in our relationship would remain unaltered through this storm of loss.

and indeed, Alzheimer's is a disease of loss.

to write of my mother's final years, of my role as caregiver, will always bring to mind my own healing, how our relationship turned to one of finding true value of another. Through guarded years and emotional distance we arrived at a place of vulnerability, for myself as well as my mother, no longer able to view her through the lens of grievance, we both surrendered to the present moment, of care without conditions, free of any past concerns and hurt. Again, a lesson of strength and love, my mother's point of surrender, trusting in my care, vulnerable and yet with insight and faith of a tenderness returned to her, seeing me more truly now than ever before. I hope I never let her down. 

of strength and love, my mother eleven years gone, and now my father too, and this is what they gave me, lasting into the very moment of this reflection...

of strength, and only love. 

~

Peace, Eric 

To Better Understand

To better understand:

as it is, I admire scientist and mystic equally so, each being an explorer of the infinite measure of the mind, seeking to better understand the mysteries of the world just a bit more and share it with us all. Both, with a language of their own, tell their point in stories, with metaphors used for better explanation of what really can't be told with words. Scientist and mystics are poets in a way. I find their language beautiful, a vivid description of the world with the end result of both being seamless in my view. Science tells of my belonging to a world that only appears solid and sure, describing things as both wave and form, matter and immaterial. I am fascinated by my ancient origins, traced through evolution to the Big Bang itself. I am truly older than the stars. Mystics tell a similar tale of consciousness and tie it all together in a seamless fashion. I belong to the world because I am no less than an aspect of its whole expression, that I'm even at this moment I am immaterial in spite my appearance as form, an equal trade of matter and void. The mystic uses metaphors of God and soul, a language employed to better understand mysteries that seem to flow from inner to an outer world. 

again, the end result being seamless.

and yet for me, at least right now, there doesn't seem to be anything to better understand. The world simply is - and I belong exactly to it in this way, being immaterial by nature as well as fully functional in form. This is the way that life unfolds, and there's little need for me to question further any reason why this seems to be, at least not by means of seeking answers other than my own. I don't declare myself awakened, wise to the ultimate way of soul or world. 

but awakening, yes...

there's no better understanding for me now, that I enjoy the language of science and mystic alike, but no story ever captures this aliveness, and wordless, there's only the acceptance of life's flow, intimately immersed by moments of selflessness to self without need of explanation. I understand nothing...

and smile at this conclusion. 

~

Peace, Eric 

On The Breath

On the breath: 

our true name is given on the breath, that we are here, our arrival announced through first inhalation, and we are told that we are life, vital, holy. Confirmed by exhale, indeed we are alive, breathing our belonging to the world, our true name a repetition now, air drawn to remember the subtle essence of who we really are and released in recognition of a presence shared between us. 

listen,

breathe,

and let's remember who we are.

it's always on the breath, our true name whispered in its passing, that we are life, essence, and we hear this being told through the air, a vibration touched against us by wind, as if the universe echos the name of our existence, breathing this secret to the world. Our true name is life, subtle energy, the very stuff of all creation, and our breath is actually a mantra, a holy name repeated as a prayer. 

listen,

we are told who we are, and the breath grows quiet with this repetition, listening, remembering, everything so subtle now, presence, and we know ourselves as life, sacred by virtue of existence, just this, alive, present, here.

it really isn't complicated, there's no self to be discovered, nothing truly kept hidden, it's all repeated on the breath, who we are and why we're here. Listen, yes, it's that simple, we are here to listen, to breathe, to know ourselves as life and divine essence, and by this it means nothing more than the reality of our existence, that we know only this aliveness, giving no concern to the possibility of other worlds, heaven found through every breath, nirvana being whispered as our name.

breathe,

listen.

and we hear...

~

Peace, Eric 

No Conditions

No Conditions:

yes, love is unconditional by reason of no conditions actually existing for its prevention, that reality itself is free of these constraints and all there is, truly so, is the pure acceptance of love. From our position, everyday life, it's certainly hard to realize this, let alone to have to be a daily practice. Yet perhaps the realization alone is enough, reality doesn't need to be practiced, but only recognized in the truth of its existence. We are unconditional love already in practice, fully accepting our every denial, the worst of our beliefs, and any situation life brings to us - and even our protest and complaints are fully and immediately accepted. We are in the midst of true love without conditions.

it's our reality.

and this also means we're free.

for me, if there is a practice, it's simply remembering this, and every seeming condition found present is a ready and perfect reminder. Presence, that something is here, anything, and by this virtue it is indeed accepted, belonging in my life for however long its stay. This isn't an issue of my own personal acceptance, it's a not a display of openness and equanimity. I am not that strong and patient. But my presence is reality, open and equanimous by nature, allowing. There are no condition here, nothing that isn't immediately accepted in this great belonging. 

there's just what is.

of course unconditional love allows for our protest and for every complaint, even for our disbelief that this is even so - presence denies nothing, and this is the only proof that's needed. It's here that we find the tenderness of true love, that our seeming brokenness is really and only an illusion within the presence of infinite wholeness, that no parts truly exists to be broken at all, just the spaciousness of this endless embrace, holding us, tenderly, even now in our beliefs of being shattered. 

reality is this embrace.

presence.

is this a realization? Perhaps, but really, it feels more of a surrender, a letting go of a long belief of being separate from what's now and always present. Yes, there are conditions that may seem to break us, life isn't always perfect by our own design, we suffer and know true sorrow. Yet there are no conditions that prevent the embrace of this love, no sorrow that isn't held in the immediacy of this acceptance. It's a tenderness that never fails us, our presence never denied its reality. 

we are love, 

truly so, without conditions. 

~

Peace, Eric 

This Is My Place

This is my place: 

this is my place to share, openly and honestly with whatever thoughts and ideas I may have, as well, it's where I write what's present to me, emotionally, spiritually, any state that seems to have a certain grip on me is shared. It's not a form of therapy, although it does help to write of my dark times, having words pour out as a confession of sorts, seeking a creative outlet for things I otherwise wouldn't say. For me, it's always about art, and even as I write about depression it's shared, hopefully, as an artistic expression directly of this moment. 

this is my place to write, create, for my art to exist.

there's always a similar theme here though, a thread of mindfulness and awareness that weaves through everything I write, sometimes subtle, and more often directly to the point. It's the underlying reality of art, that it all springs from a deep awareness, consciousness, our common soul that seeks a voice for its expression. It's inescapable for me, for any artist really, yet I seem more drawn to write of it in obvious ways and that's been the nature of my work. 

this moment, for at least a few words, this is my place to write and share of depression - I find myself in dark, heavy moods, cloaked against me, unavoidable. I'm depressed, as happens on occasion. It's a similar theme as well, playing often thorough my life. Some have said I hide it well, although those closest know it's not hidden at all, with no attempt to cover it with light and keep its signs at bay. Its presence is allowed in whatever way it shows, and I make no effort to deny it, to alter its appearance, nor to shorten its stay. It's here, and I'm aware of it, accepting that for now it's in my company, a companion of a darker presence, one I should be mindful of, and that perhaps now I should offer myself some greater care, kindness, a bit of compassion towards my needs. Yes, I've been through this before, it's an aspect of my life since childhood, and only in recent years have I given it the notice to be healed. By this I don't mean to be free and rid of depression, but healing in the sense of being whole, complete by darkness and light, that both exist within the other.

so today, this is my place to heal, 

to share,

expressing what's found present at this moment,

here. 

~

Peace, Eric 

    

Two Temptation

Two temptations:

often it seems that there are two temptations here, and most especially through the direct means of our seeing, with the openness and clarity that  ensures upon first noting the emptiness of our nature, and then the immediacy of it's fulfillment.  It's a great awakening, repeatable and miraculous every time, that we are able to point and truly see the reality of our trade, capacity for the appearance of the world, spaciousness for form, the heart sutra directly realized. 

and yet so often there are two  temptations that soon come into play -  first, that seeing alone isn't enough, that there must be more to this than the very transformation of the world, as if our own direct participation of formlessness coming to the everyday reality of form isn't a miraculous revelation and that somehow there needs to be an added benefit for our attainment. We are seekers still it seems, always wishing for another level just beyond our reach. That we are here, present to the remarkableness of reality, literally a transformation of nothing to the everyday - why, and how, could this possibly not be enough to the end cause of seeking? 

as well, it seems, we're tempted to create more to this than what's directly seen, adding qualities of wishes and beliefs, imagining reality to fit our every need. We're seeing, and indeed it's a magical event, that each and every moment is a seamless flow of energy transforming in a perfect trade of formlessness to form. There is still, and always will be, so much we don't truly understand, reality being considerably more than ever comprehended by the mind. Yet we are a revelation of the miraculous with each moment, a magical event completely of our own, now, at once formless and the appearance of self, body, and every object of the world. We can see this, pointing to our absence, the openness of the pure capacity of our nature, within the same moment of it's fulfillment. 

nothing added.

nor removed.

simply, only, seeing, and allowing what appears to unfold in whatever way reality reveals itself, not giving in to two temptations of creating something more to this, nor dismissing how miraculous each moment truly is. 

we're seeing, 

and that's how we awaken...continuously.

~

Peace, Eric  

Of Vibrations

Of vibration:

that our reality is of vibration, strings of infinitely subtle existence in concert to the production of the universe, or multiple universes really, dimensions of other worlds not yet known. Everything is vibrating, energy, and what appears stationary and solid is a frequency of matter. Even our bodies are a particular frequency, a resonance unique for our existence, yet harmonized to the world. 

honestly, I know little of the science of this, not many really do. String theory is complex in understanding even as it explains the simplest thing of all - being. The universe is an expression of frequencies, those subtle strings of energy somehow play the world into existence. We are part of this expression, a note within this cosmic song. 

it's hard not to sound like a mystic here, new age or otherwise. 

yet really, this description is ancient, the Katha Upanishads tells us that the conscious self is never born and therefore cannot die. That we emerged from nothing, a divine frequency, and remain a vibration of this endless song. We are told the world pulsates in energy, prana, life force and that the holy sound of this creation is Om. 

we are a frequency of Om. 

further Upanishads tell us more, with the opening of the Mandukya getting to the point straight away - Om, this syllable is all there is, that the past, present and future is just the sound Om. Nothing is left out here, that our reality is of vibration, a frequency of Om, and that each sate of consciousness is symbolized by a letter broken down into the sound of aum, three states, waking, dreaming and deep sleep. The fourth state is beyond the manifestation of sound, too pure in stillness, silent and undivided, Om by deepest essence, the realty of true being. 

we are told that one who knows this, Om, knows their truest self. 

of course this is just a story, ancient and wise as it is, and physics just a newer version, tested by math and evolving theories. Both the Upanishads and String Theory are true in a sense, descriptions of being and the manifestation of life, yet unreal by their very same description. Truth will never be told, not by words nor mathematical evidence, and not even by experience, as anything experienced is but a version of any truth deeply known. 

our reality of of vibration, frequencies, it's the simplicity of being, effortless, everything happening completely on its own. There's nothing really to experience in any of this, it's occurring now, constant, completely our existence. 

beingness. 

it's what we are. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Stay With This

Stay with this:

to stay with this, and it's all I ask of myself, that right now I am aware and that it's noted, presence of a sort, I guess, as really nothing else is found but this, no boundaries that declare awareness has beginning nor end. 

just this.

aware.

anything else would be speculation on my part and provides no real meaning to be anyway. I have no idea if it's the chemicals in my brain reacting in a way that gives cause to the source of this awareness. Nor do my admittedly biased views of panpsychism hold ultimate sway. It really doesn't matter, to me at least, not being scientist nor philosopher, I have no position to stake or defend in this debate. My insight is always of the present moment, that right now I'm aware, no, not really so, I say this more for the sake of convenience, as truly on examination there's no one here to claim this awareness as their own. 

there's only being.

aware.

this.

to stay with this, being aware of a self appearing, noting too it's absence, and without need for it to be anything other than it is right now. I have no reason to believe that this awareness continues after the functions of my brain cease in working order. This could all be a chemical reaction for all I truly know. It amazes me that life could deliver awareness in this way, that I am hardwired for awakening, my nature being so perfect and precise to behold the world this way. It's a miracle of DNA, evolution, and even the physics involved to create such a structure of elegance and energy. 

and yet,

this could all continue too in some way, awareness lasting beyond my personal value, measured not by my own view, but that I'm merely a momentary content within a greater capacity still, an aware aspect of the whole. I am amazed by the intimacy of it all, that I only know of what appears within awareness, so immediate, near, seamless. This is exactly where I belong, here, able to note myself at once as both appearance and that which knows it as the view, again being intimate beyond compare. More truly and deeply seen, this is a singular arising, capacity being just as miraculous as all it holds, one thing alone, and only. 

to stay with this, aware, allowing all ideas of self and non-self to come and go, simply present, empty, and yet somehow full as well. It needs no explanation, no claim of priority or lasting value. I'm aware, or something far larger than me is aware and allows for my appearance, an aspect of its greater hold. Truly, I have no idea, and all I ask of myself is to stay with this, not knowing, demanding no answers, and giving no belief to anything this present moment doesn't hold. 

it's enough to just find myself aware,

~

Peace, Eric 

Always The Unknown

Always the unknown:

it's always the unknown, we live amidst mystery, and have sought to cover this with more certain beliefs that it seems we can depend upon, religion, our daily affairs, any distraction that keeps us from living in the direct experience of not knowing. Of course experience is a problematic word here, implying that anything we see, hear, touch, taste, any sensation, immediately becomes known by our participation in the event, whatever it is occurring. Yet it all remains a mystery, and in the very moment that we later believe is our experience, there is no self actually found present and able to know, no one is experiencing anything at all, there's only what's happening in that one particular instant, energy at play, this, and nothing more, really.

it's only later that a self becomes involved.

and this is all through stories, memories of something happening.

this is tricky to write about, filled with contradictions and words that will always fail to capture the unknown. In the end, it just becomes another story. But there's hope that maybe a glimpse of mystery will appear, lingering through the space between words, and yes, perhaps something will prompt a hint of the immediacy of life happening now, only and always now. 

the actuality of this. 

awakening is more truly an unknowing of a personal involvement with the world, everything becomes much more intimate, a true belonging in the sense that all there is - is. It's all seen as unconditional now, nothing giving cause to everything at once, capacity and life in simultaneous occurrence, mystery simply happening for the joy of its appearance. It's always the unknown because we are this, our truest self is not a self at all but the flow of life itself, ongoing, and completely beyond experience. 

just this.

always the unknown.

~

Peace, Eric 

Without Our Effort

Without our effort: 

it's all without our effort, easy in the sense that action takes place without added complications, a deeper wisdom takes hold and guides our every act towards completion. Our bodies reflect this perfectly, and even if struggling through illness or disease there remains an ease of certain functions, a coherence of parts vital for its continuation. There's a distinction to make here, to not dismiss that sometimes life is difficult, that sorrow occurs and suffering is real. All of this is true, and yes, with insight we are able to see through the cause of suffering and lighten the load of sorrow for ourselves and others, Buddha's noble goal, but still the pain of loss is keen, pain and disease remain a struggle. 

yet still the body displays a remarkable show of ease, at least as far as any conscious effort given to it's functions. We don't ask the heart to beat, nor make demands for other organs to perform. Our eyes see without the mind having to first focus their attention, sounds arrive graceful to our waiting ears. None of this occurs through any willful action of our own. 

nature happens, life. 

without effort our effort.

and more remarkable still - we see that cells come into form, creating the very tissues of our bodies, and that every cell is made of molecules, and that atoms lend themselves to a molecule's creation, particles forming atom, until at last we come to...nothing so it seems, or perhaps pure desire, energy, the least effort of the whole universe and its formation. 

everything, and all from what appears to be a simple wish. 

existence.

without our effort we have the entire world, life, the miracle of bodies and existence. Somehow it all occurred, happening still, and with nothing done by us to maintain it. We make no effort exist, just to be here, everything is simply given, granted by right of such incredulous process, cells to molecules and atoms, particles, and all from an absolute field of pure energy and potential. 

and all without our effort,

we exist. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Unfolds Differently

Unfolds differently: 

not a seeker, no spiritual search, nor do I strive for any deeper understanding of the world - yet still I meditate as a daily practice, and I find myself drawn to occasionally revisit the daily exercises in A Course in Miracles, or read a book with claims and descriptions of someone's awakening experience. These are happy things for me to do, exploring so many options that have brought meaning and joy to others, or played a significant role in my own past. I know that many people, former seeker's it seems, arrive at a point where they feel it's best to leave this all behind, no guru, no method, no teacher, as Van Morrison sang and in his song In The Garden, inspired by a Jiddu Krishnamurti quote. But things appear to be unfolding differently for me, my enjoyment only grows with meditation, spiritual texts gain new meaning and insight in their revisit, and the world itself becomes my guru, teaching me through its ever present mystery and wonder. My method, such as it is, 

is simply seeing.

and seeing is always direct, immediate, without providing any meaning of its own, nor memory of anything ever seen before. Just this, now, and whatever it is I see is my own revelation, every object belonging in a seamless fashion in relation to another, and all appearing through the capacity of an endless, empty, embrace which holds the world. 

everything belongs here, nothing denied.

it's a continuous awakening.

every moment.

things are allowed to unfold differently, mystery isn't set in certain ways as to how things will appear for everyone, my own awakening being different than your own. For me, it was an easy slide from seeker to explorer, an energy shift born of continuing wonder and awe. I make no apologies in that my path unfolds differently than yours, nor should anyone apologies for their own means of joy and awakening. It's just who we are, how things appear to be, at least for now. Everything changes, no path is ever sure and certain (in fact, there's no real path at all) and mystery only promises a continuous awakening.

however differently it may unfold. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Nearness of Trees

Nearness of trees: 

by the nearness of trees - and it's here that wisdom is imparted, our life returned to the simplicity of its nature, true stillness restored. Every tree is the Bodhi offering us enlightenment, a place to rest and give deep contemplation as to who and what we really are, comforting our restless minds. By the nearness of trees, 

we are revealed. 

trees are our spiritual masters, companions, friends. It wasn't the fruit from the tree of knowledge that lead to our fall from grace, but our failure to heed the wisdom gained, giving belief to our separation from the garden. Every tree beckons our return, Eden again offered by branch and shade, an oasis for these troubled times. We are called to the woods, parks, to even single trees in a city's landscape, we are asked to rediscover our own personal Eden, healing the belief that we are apart from nature. 

before he was the Buddha, Siddhartha surrendered beneath the branches of the Bodhi tree, exhausted from a near endless search for freedom, resting here, placing his own roots deep within the earth, asking no less than to be enlightened. Every tree offers us this same surrender, seeing our own roots matched to their depth, and how at the very time we are held within the sky, truly a connecting point between earth and heaven. We are enlightened by the nearness of trees, saved in our surrender by their example, having faith in the healing touch of sun against leaf and branches, rain to quench a root deep thirst, earth to balance and restore. It was the Bodhi tree that saved Siddhartha.

by the nearness of trees, and this love they offer, we find ourselves healed, enlightened, restored to our original grace and meaning. Trees literally alter our physiology, heartbeat slowed and blood pressure lowered, our breath cleansed, relaxed, returning us to again to earth creatures, belonging to the company of trees, reminding us that this is truly home, here, our only sure and promised garden. 

by the nearness of trees, 

we remember. 

~

Peace, Eric 

New Year

New Year: 

this past year has been difficult for so many of us, perhaps for most of us, we've all suffered and lost in some way. So we turn to a new year with no small amount of hope, a wish for a happier, healthier, more fulfilling year then last. May it be so for each of you, may it be so for me. Yet it strikes me now of how we measure this in terms of an annual change, an event, of months to a year, weeks, days and even smaller still to hours and minutes to be counted. Time is the illusion of our control, that we can resolve our way to something better, more lasting than before. It's always an escape from the present moment, now, a timeless point that can't be measured, nor counted down to another time. This is where all change occurs, and it's constant, right now we are the resolve of motion, a continuous, dynamic event of being alive. There is absolutely nothing for us to wait for.

everything happens now.

of course time is a major part of our lives, we maintain a schedule, celebrate holidays, and use a new year to review our accomplishments and set new goals. But time also tends to rob us of the present moment, mentally removes us from experiences occurring right now, the simple, yet vital things we take for granted. This isn't a call for mindfulness, a worthy endeavor, but one that often takes great effort. What I'm asking for here is more effortless, natural, an easy pause to note our own awareness. 

everything occurs here.

this present moment is never truly abandoned, we never really wander from it, even as we daydream of years before and times that have yet to come. We're always here, it's never not now. It's that simple. We're aware. Just not aware that this is so. And that's our call for new year's, awakening, and it's not resolution, nor a method to be practiced. It's simply being what we are, right now, perfect in the sense that things can't be any other way than they are at this moment, yet knowing too that life always brings a certain change. Each instant is a new year, a revelation of our fluid nature, motion, an event that has never occurred before and won't ever again happen in this way. What we celebrate is awareness itself, that at any moment we can add our appreciation to the life we have - how each breath is a singular occurrence, a renewal of every cell and vital function. If we pause, listening, our heartbeat is the vibration of the world, a rhythm that hints of our connection, a coherence expressed through individual patterns, yet always part of something so much larger, a universal song of our belonging. 

this moment marks a new year within a timeless realm.

right now is all we truly have.

we're aware.

celebrate. 

~

Peace, Eric