Our Aspirations

Our aspirations: 

to be mindful of our aspirations, greater than our goals and not measured by any sense of achievement, this is our overlying motivation now, giving reason for everything we do. An aspiration is beyond the physical capacity of work, it's here that we enter a purely spiritual realm, only really reached by letting go of the striving nature of the mind and allowing life to unfold with the grace of it's own agenda. It's with this that we surrender our role of always pretending to be in charge of every moment and situation, no longer attempting to force life to obey certain arbitrary rules of order. 

 and now we relearn the art of navigation, working with the world again, one nature, guiding by this sure and true connection. Our aspirations are an ocean of fulfillment, our dharma, and we are steered by the information we receive, bestowed by inspiration, and the inner smile of our alignment keeps us to this course. There is no room for mistakes here, but simply because everything serves us in someway now, providing feedback as to our current of navigation, reminding us to allow life to easily happen without undue interference of the mind. 

our aspirations are without goals, and yet allow for their achievement - again this is dharma, speaking of our purpose and being aligned with our true nature. Nothing is forced, no hard and set rules for us to follow. That's why I love the sense of navigation, guided by my own set of inner stars, a galaxy of inspiration for me to steer by and always find my true point of home. 

so I'll offer no real definition of aspiration, purposely staying vague in my description, and this is because we all know our own true and proper course, our dharma, and yours will surely feel different than my own. What I believe is that we may choose our goals and the path for their achievement, but our aspirations are larger than this, pure, remaining untouched by any metric of fulfillment. An aspiration is its own fulfillment, needing no purpose other than it own unfolding nature. We aren't meant to reach our dharma, it's already present, here now, the very essence of who we are. It's simply a realization of our overlying measure, infinite, pure in its potential and fulfillment. 

our aspirations are who we truly are...

now, and always. 

~

Peace, Eric 

To Invoke

To invoke: 

it's been said that some ancient languages, such as Sanskrit and Hebrew, vibrate as the very essence of that which they describe, to use such language is to invoke the energy of the object and bring us to the same frequency of awareness. Sanskrit has been described by some linguist as the purest language, spiritual in context as it has a lightness to its sound, soft, vibrating almost beyond the realm of words. I've had some powerful experiences chanting Sanskrit, getting lost in the sound until their only seemed the vibration of the world, a pulse, and that I matched this quality with every particle of my being. My personal mantra is Sanskrit as well, devoid of specific meaning, and meant to lead me to the frequency of the universe that brought me from spirit to the manifest world, the vibration of the moment of my birth. 

this is about magic, true and believable by virtue of experience.

 certain language is magic, having the power to invoke emotion and spirit, to call forth the essence of an ethereal quality that defies ordinary description. That's poetry, and I'll use that word broadly here, not as an actual written form of art, but with a deeper meaning, vibrational, and that the world itself is poetry, everything, and only waits for the right words to match the energy of soul, to invoke the essence of the world through language. 

as I write, I seek to invoke, there's a quality I wish to capture, ineffable, and yet perhaps I'll manage to match it closely by vibration, a similar frequency by design, This is what that no matter what I may write, I always consider myself a poet, one who wishes to invoke the lyrical sense of the world through words and their arrangement. In this way, everything becomes art, creative by expression, and even a simple note contains the deepest essence of the world. 

what I seek is resonance, my soul directly matched to yours.

a vibrational quality shared between us. 

that's the magic of poetry, to invoke something hidden in words, dormant, seemingly lost by our casual descriptions. This is our true conversation about poetry, vibrational, not only to be read or spoken and then easily dismissed, but felt by soul, resonating in a quiet stir of recognition. We are of one soul, essence, and the right words vibrate with this union. It's all poetry, everything, a universe of lyrical form occurring through an infinite field of silence. 

what's offered here is resonance, poetry of a sort.

an opportunity to invoke the magic of the world. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Being Receptive

Being receptive: 

it's my time for words, that's just how it works, somehow words appear and writing happens, inspired so it seems. Really it's a mystery, not one of talent or discipline, although they do play a  vital role for the continuation of this gift. But mostly it's about being receptive, a willingness to abide for a certain length of time in silence, listening, not being in a rush for words and trusting they will come. Always in their own time. That's key, this isn't my agenda here, my demands mean little to the sway of inspiration, and often seem to cause an even longer point of absence to any words appearing.

my role is to wait, trust, listen...

being receptive.

and it's through this that writing happens, a natural process that took years for me to realize and even longer still to put into practice and begin to understand. As a younger writer I knew little of being receptive, more prone to petition inspiration with an argument of time and necessity of words being given to me now, always at my demand, and with little concern for the role that silence plays here. Often this appeared to work, at least in a creative burst of sudden inspiration, and then always followed by a longer space devoid of any words. This would always cause me to doubt my gift for writing, never quite realizing that this isn't really my gift at all, but simply grace, freely and expansively given, yet never mine to order its appearance. Through time, and by silence, I learned to wait for words, learning the art of being receptive, open, and allowing words to be gifted on their own. 

an inspired lesson learned.

a lesson that I'm still learning, practicing its application, as so often I find myself in a rush for words, reaching, not fully trusting in the grace of inspiration. My beliefs still cause me some doubt in the role of patience, of being receptive, and I lose this subtle connection between soul and words, how they're linked by faith alone, and only realized through an inspired length of silence. That's the true gift really, not words and not what appears to be any talent for writing, but the gift of silence itself, to gain an appreciation for the potentiality of its spacious hold, infinite in its capacity for providing inspiration. Being receptive isn't about waiting for words to arrive, it's simply faith displayed through patience and understanding, thankful for the vital role that silence plays. The true gift is of being receptive,  of being open, realizing that we are capacity itself - and through this allowing space all of life appears...

inspired. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Forgetting Self

Forgetting self: 

forgetting self, or as it's often called transcending, yet this word seems to hint at a subtle change that doesn't quite belong here, as if it were a process and not simply a letting go, relaxing, and being who we really, always are. I guess it's thought of as a process because it so occurs through repetition, a mantra's soft tone silently repeated, an artist with the sureness of their brushstroke committing to the canvas, a poet with their imagery of words. It seems like action leads us here, to forgetting self, a realization of only being motion and not a solid entity at all. 

that's the true role of art, not an end result given to show, but each concentrated moment alone, fully committed for a single act and not a thought towards its completion. Quite the same with meditation, although we hold our concentration softly, easily, yet equally committed to breath or mantra. This is the art of forgetting self, of existing as the motion of the world, of simply being.

in this light, we're all artist, and our medium is what it is we truly love to do, giving ourselves away until we're empty of all but our devotion. It's not complicated, occurring quite naturally, easily through our commitment. We're already selfless, always so, with our identity only being an accumulation of beliefs. stories repeatedly told and now taken to be true and lasting. Art, in whatever form of our commitment, is our enlightenment, literally bringing light to who we really are. 

and everything is art, it's all our medium of creation, and only takes a moment to be recognized. For me, one way of forgetting self is through writing, where even my wait for words is an act of pure devotion, trusting the sureness of my inspiration, arranging each word as its delivered, forgetting myself in the emptiness of page and the holiness found between every given word. It's just another form of meditation, every word a mantra vibrating with specific meaning, and I lose myself through their arrangement. Again this only seems a process, actions expressed through the lens of time, but our actuality is always selfless, empty of all but the potentially of what's shown through every moment. 

art is reality.

it's all emptiness in continuous creation...

and we're just a momentary expression given form. 

~

Peace, Eric 

A Version of An Experience

A version of an experience: 

what I write here isn't really an accurate description of an experience, most especially concerning meditation and making use of the mantra, reality is always much different, although in subtle ways, and words will always fail to capture the essence of the moment. But what I wish to do is to offer a version of an experience that's already gone, inspired, and perhaps have you turn within to a present moment of your own, listening now to a silence shared between us. 

and then, together, we'll both know the reality of this moment.

in a way that words can never show.

the mantra is key, at least for this meditation, it's a vibration of silence, personal, and offers us a return to the bare essence of who we are. It could easily be the breath as well, a soft focus of its passage, feeling its motion against a portion of skin, or the slow rhythm of the belly's rise and fall. It doesn't really matter, but for me, it's the mantra, a faint idea whispered through my mind until there's only silence. My preference is to give myself to this vibration, completely, and yet without effort or undue concentration, unattached to how it passes through my mind. It's the mantra that does the work, carrying me to a field of present silence, and my role is to simply recall it, allowing myself to be led to more subtle layers of my own deep vibrational expression. 

through the mantra I'm revealed. 

yes, that's just my version of an experience, a portrayal, true by word and its description, yet not entirely so of the of the actual moment itself. Which, truly can't be told, only experienced. My version of an experience is never yours, not completely, but it's not separate either, being of the very same essence, one reality expressed through infinitely unique and different ways. 

what I write here isn't meant to be accurate, it's not a retelling of an experience, but more so a continued inspiration being offered through the shifting tones of other moments. Only silence itself remains unchanged, inviting us to listen, urging our attention to breath or mantra, asking to be revealed right now, the only possible moment of its revelation. My hope is that my version of an experience will give cause for you to turn within, listening, and that we will share something between us, something essential,a secret we both know, one that everyone truly knows, but has somehow been forgotten. 

and now we're asked to remember.

~

Peace, Eric 

My Bias

My bias: 

my bias is towards a conscious universe, responsive, and evolving, every aspect somehow involved as well within a singular sense of being. My own meditation seems to confirm this, a deep stillness that matches the world in a seamless understanding. This isn't really a view of panpsychism, which views that the mind, or mind-like qualities is a fundamental feature of the universe, my sense is deeper still, that consciousness is all that is and is constantly in the process of being aware of itself, infinite expressions of a singular idea - indeed, there is only the universe being conscious of itself and we are points of this awareness, a state of mind within an ever greater mind. 

of course I could be wrong. 

at as far as science is involved, although panpsychism has gained some acceptance and in the earlier days of quantum understanding physicists sounded mystical in their description of the universe, even invoking God within the conversation. It seems now that most physicist and neuroscientist too are materialist, believing that consciousness is the play of individual material arranged in a certain way to bring about the mind. To me this is even more miraculous, a universe able to arrange itself aware, or at least aspects finding themselves aware by mere chance and luck of the conscious draw. Incredible, and no less invoking a mysterious sense of God and wonder as far as I'm concerned.    

one view doesn't necessarily cancel out the other. 

or so it seems to me. 

but again, my bias is confirmed by my own exploration of the mind, a laboratory of silence and deep stillness, insights gained beyond even the most subtle thought, more like a wave grace imparting a certain sense of knowing to my mind. But I don't claim this as factual, and neither is it really a belief. I'm find being proven wrong through a scientific point of view. Yet science doesn't really touch the fundamental qualities of  the soul, it's an entirely different understanding, and as yet there's no common language for a conversation to occur. My own experience would be dismissed without a care, for now at least, as it does seem that science is gaining an appreciation for meditation and the language that we use for our description of the mind. 

perhaps they'll be a deeper conversation soon. 

regardless, my own bias is a flexible point of view, not an opinion, nor belief, but a quality of soul revealed through a quiet state of mind, inspired, and received by grace alone. It's not true in any sense of being proven so, there's nothing there to grasp and call my own, ineffable, simply the reality of a single given moment expressed through the silence of my mind. There's nothing to prove here, my own bias left behind and only the silence itself seems certain and lasting, an ocean's depth that's ever present to the caress of waves across the surface of my mind. 

without bias...

this seems enough for me. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Soul Is Home

Soul is home: 

inevitably the mantra leads to silence, not really the absence of sound and not always without an occasional thought passing through the mind - but a stillness that reaches all the way to the depth of what I can only describe as soul, and not mine alone, this is the soul of the entire world, no, larger still it's the universe itself, primordial, home. 

soul is home. 

and the mantra leads me there. 

or so it seems, for what I really find is an ever present silence, unwavering in presence and allowing by its very nature, every sound able to appear within its infinite hold, passing unobstructed. Silence offers no interference, it simply gives itself endlessly for the soul to hear the sounds of its creation, providing room for the conversation of the world. 

and so in truth the mantra only reveals what's always ever present.

soul is home.

it's a beautiful space to find myself, open, not an actual location, but reality itself, bare, and somehow I am given an awareness to note myself within it's presence. Yet it's not my everyday self that's noted, again I revert to soul, a word that captures the essence of all I wish to speak of - soul is indeed home, and what I find is that there is nowhere and nothing outside of this existence, just home, everywhere, and absolutely without a true location. 

here, right now.

soul is home.

and the mantra leads me...

~

Peace, Eric 

True Voice

True voice: 

mostly, it's about revealing my own true voice here, as the topic itself is of less importance to me, and my main concern being how I wish to tell it, offering my words to you, a deep, authentic communication between us. My heart directly to yours through what's written on the page. That's my only goal of writing, that everything be revealed as poetry no matter how it's told, my words lyrical in their intent alone. 

giving you my own true voice.

with this I need to constantly rediscover myself in a sense, dismissing words that aren't my own, not voicing opinion rather then my soul. That's the nature of our communication, my soul to yours, our hearts open to receiving something ethereal, a delicate voice that's shared between us. So this is more about listening, not really a concern of writing style, but of listening to our soul voice and giving it words we both respond to, a vibrational quality that we both recognize as out own true voice. 

in truth, we write these words together, even seemingly separated by page and time, they appear only by your expectation, a reader to find my voice and recognize it as their own, a shared listening of a common silence, and that somehow we've come to a deep communication, transcending space and time, authentic, our own true voice. 

this is my intent, with every word, and it takes a commitment to be real, again to dismiss words that ring hollow through a deep sense of listening,  words not worthy of a conversation between souls. To reveal my own true voice is to reveal yours as well, my writing is yours, these words drawn to your eyes to be read slowly, not understood on the level of the mind, but felt, deeply so, heard by soul, and for you to know that truly these words are meant for you alone, us, as there is only one self here, and we simply pose as two. This is our own true voice, or at least my attempt to find it, offering it to your response. 

continuing our conversation...

my soul to yours. 

~

Peace, Eric  

My Path

My path: 

with some people it seems so natural and easy, at least with their initial calling, that first hint of inspiration drawing them towards a practice and devotion to a particular talent, or a life path laid out so clearly for their years to follow. Others stumble upon their dharma, fortunate in their timing and position, and through this grace they base their entire lives upon this happy accident of fate. I'll be honest in that I know very little of my own personal dharma, often wondering what purpose I may have served and if there's reason still to hope that I will somehow I find my path. 

I'm pretty sure that I never will. 

not in the way described above, no dramatic accident that delivers a clear vision of my path to follow, and certainly no innate talent providing clarity for my purpose. It seems I have a much smaller dharma to follow, being that my path doesn't lead me very far from home. Ordinary. Although in most ways an outlier too, never quite fitting into the regular circle of family and friends, drifting, constantly dreaming of a higher vision to lead my life to purpose. My path was to be a seeker, and yet I never knew exactly what the search was for.  Of course now I see things a little differently, not with hindsight, but based more upon the present moment. Life isn't supposed to give me purpose, it's not a path I'm meant to follow in hope of finding some fulfillment. 

living is my purpose.

my dharma.

and I am fulfilled by the coincidence of simply being. 

my life didn't have to happen at all, and yet it's clear too that everything that occurred for me to be here was an accident of some design. I'm not saying God here, nor fate, or hinting at a guiding universal intelligence., and neither do I dismiss these things. It's just too mysterious for my description, ineffable, and what I do see clearly is that my path contains the entire world, larger still, the universe itself, and there is no call to give this a label and a purpose. I am an expression of life, lived, experienced, and it's not the other way around, life isn't here to serve my purpose, my dharma is to simply be alive, joyful, engaged and fully in love with just this single moment. 

with this I find that I'm actually the dharma of some unique motion, an entire universe arranged to provide my momentary expression. There isn't really any path at all, no point or purpose other than the grace and great fortune of being exactly as I am right now. Everything had to happen so precisely across a spectrum of infinite possibilities for this moment to occur - and that I'm here, writing, a beautiful theme running through my mind and pouring from my fingers...

there's a larger dharma at play here.

and I am part of it's expression. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Deciphering

Deciphering: 

really, it's about deciphering mystery, alchemy in a sense, that silence has a deepest wish to be heard and will lend itself to words if only I'm to listen deeply, patient, not rushing my own thoughts here to fill the page. I want to know the secrets silence holds, to share its mystery translated into words the best that I am able, deciphering what truly can't be told into a representation of its beauty. 

it never happens, not completely at least, and that's the draw of silence, it's to be experienced, and is always just beyond the grasp of words. 

yet it leaves me wishing I could share.

and that's why I consider myself a poet, a mystic, just labels really, but again like words to silence they attempt to capture an ineffable experience of being overwhelmed by the presence of deep stillness, consumed by its mystery and left only with a desire to share the rediscovery of my own silent nature. An impossible task and one that's makes a poet worthy. 

a poet's role is deciphering silence into words, and it always leads to a beautiful failure. never quiet capturing the essence of their own intimate experience of the world. Every attempt is worthy and leaves me hopeful to the next, not that it may finally succeed, but that I am again immersed in silence, partaking of its mystery, and that perhaps my description later given to a page will be closer than before. Of course it never is, again it's an impossible task, Sisyphean by its very nature. 

and I've given it a lifetime of devotion.

joyfully so.

 and would gladly devote a thousand more. 

each one given to deciphering this mystery, listening to the underlying silence in vibration, remaining hopeful in the beauty of words through the translation that they offer. 

it's a poet's role, after all....

~

Peace, Eric 

Never A Threat

Never a threat: 

it's the potentiality of the page, that its promise is held by the very emptiness I seek to fill, and that in truth is my own reflection shown to me. A blank page is never a threat to creativity, - and to see myself within the vastness of its promise is to be inspired by all the possibilities that emptiness can be, and indeed, what it is right now within this very moment. This is the proof of my capacity being an endless source of inspiration, and that the world itself arises from the same void that shows the promise of this page. 

the Buddhist Heart Sutra states that emptiness is form and that form itself is only emptiness, one thing in trade with itself for the sake of inspiration, constant, and never ending in its creation. Thus we have the solid reality of the world and still emptiness is ever present. 

emptiness is never a threat to creativity.

only the promise of its fulfillment.

and so to see myself reflected back from an empty page is to finally come to my capacity to hold all that's beautiful and frightening of the world, every aspect my own truth given back to me and healed and cherished through this acceptance. 

it's to find myself whole. 

complete.

empty and fulfilled/

that I am the Heart Sutra in promise and fulfillment.. 

every morning I am eager to face an empty page, it's never a threat to me, and it's there as an invitation to explore the depth of my own potential, to see what beauty I might tell, or what insight might unfold. It's my capacity here, reflected from the page, infinitely empty, and yet always full of promise. Emptiness is never a threat to the endless capacity of my becoming. It's the inspiration of who I am right now, and the promise of who I'll be tomorrow. 

and it's all reflected from an empty page. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Absence of An Artist

Absence of an artist: 

art, through its every expression and at it's most fundamental point, is really a form self inquiry, a meditation of complete absorption in its process, and with the end result of no artist being truly found, but only the presence of some holy inspiration. Of course once the work is finished an artist seems to reappear and claim credit for completion, signing name, and accepting recognition. But an artist deeply knows that they're merely participants within the process, an extension of the medium itself, and although vital, not the sole means of their creation. An artist arrives at this truth through brushstroke, camera lens, keyboard or pen, whatever medium of their endeavor - it all leads the absence of an artist, a realization of selfless creation and with only inspiration being found as source.   

in the absence of an artist...

there is only inspiration. 

this is why art is true devotion, an act of giving the self away through the process of creation, pure love and being unconditional in its expression. An artist will willingly disappear for their work's completion, absorbed by the details of a single line drawn, a written phrase, fingers sunk deep in clay.  The end result itself doesn't really matter, not greatly so at least, although there is satisfaction as the work's completed, sometimes too even disappointment - it all happens as the self reappears, an inner critic born for judgement and now ready to give reviews. 

an artist is never really separate from their medium.

it's all just one expression. 

inspired.

and with this it's seen that there's only inspiration, being the true motion of every artistic demonstration, the cause of all creation, and for creativity itself to even be expressed. It's art, everything, all of life arranged by some greater thought of inspiration, and this is what we're part of, made for really, to give are selves away so completely that only this is found. 

in the absence of an artist,

there is only,

always,

inspiration. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Few Words

Few words: 

and for now there are only a few words to appear, and not ones of any great meaning or importance - this is usually my time of inspiration, well before dawn, mostly silent and with just the occasional bird note being given to the air. There is no need for writing, not right now, and this seems to be what the morning is trying to tell me...and I do my best to listen. 

for me,

silence is synonymous with writing.

and I am deeply comfortable in its presence.

what I'm writing now comes through after a  long pause from what was previously written, again the morning urges me patience, not to reach for inspiration, and to give little importance to the few words that appear. Silence has its own agenda. 

my role is to listen.

trusting.

and so I could be content with what I have now, with just these few words written, and without any need to fill an entire page with the cleverness of language and ideas. The morning urges me more towards silence, to reacquaint myself with its presence and find my comfort there. There's another time for clever words and lengthy commitment to ideas, perhaps tomorrow morning, my usual time before dawn and where inspiration always seems to find me. This morning was meant for mostly listening, honoring silence as best I'm able, and with an occasional word and phrase given seamless to the air. It's much like the notes of that first bird song of the morning, a grace of early notes not meant to awaken others, but only to be heard by those already awake now. 

these few words...

 are just my morning song. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Deep Joy

Deep joy:

here's my own view on dharma, that it's less a rigid concept of duty and right purpose than it is a joyful expression of who we most truly, really are. Dharma is our reality. To realize this is a matter of alignment, an easy correction of beliefs, or perhaps better stated, a dismissal of beliefs entirely, at least for just a moment as we catch a glimpse of our true purpose. Of course this is only speculation on my part, not meant to be taken as a discourse on human nature nor ancient Vedic concepts. This is merely the use of words to express my deep joy through the act of writing. 

it's my dharma. 

and that's it, really, joy, from the depth of our being, it's the deep joy of finding ourselves alive and surprisingly aware of our present situation. Our dharma is to simply awaken. That's it, and with this awakening we find our purpose and discover that it's already fulfilled by function of the breath, by rhythm of heartbeat, and through the motion of our thoughts and bodies. 

our dharma is to be alive.

and aware that it's so.

with this awakening comes deep joy, everything we do is a value of our expression, our every action being a minor work of art meant to be displayed before the world. This is why it's so vital to dismiss beliefs that hold us within a rigid structure of expression. What we do matters. Everything we do matters. But only in the sense of our own deepest joy, that we allow ourselves the favor of expressing the singular purpose of our being alive and aware, our dharma - that we are free to be exactly as we are, and that our deep joy is found through this allowing.  

this should end with a brief note of what I mean by deep joy - it's not the absence of grief, nor sorrow, our tragedies and suffering aren't dismissed. Our dharma is to express it all, everything, and joy is found in this freedom, uninhibited, and without remorse for its display. 

deep joy is the art of living...

it's our dharma. 

~

Peace, Eric 

First Step

First step: 

the first step is about honesty, admitting that we are powerlessness over our present situation and giving cause to our surrender - it's also often the most difficult step to take in a recovery program. We are long conditioned to believe in our own personal power and having complete control over all aspects of our lives. Admitting that we are powerless, even over an addiction, doesn't seem to fit within the strictness of this framework. But the truth is that we have little power, less that we could possibly imagine, and surrender to a higher power is really the only viable option if we wish to live an awakened life. 

and to be awake is to be free. 

to be truly free is to realize that there is no higher power separate from ourselves and that our surrender is really and only to the flow of life. That's it, the first step is admitting that we are powerless and have little real control over how our lives unfold. It's scary. It's also not what we believe, we've spent a lifetime navigating our lives in a particular direction, choosing a preferred path, and having a sense of control over our destiny. But of course this is all reaction and response, not true power, but simply a slow careen of life events that we react to. We're powerless here, life's in charge, and the great discovery is that we're alive, an aspect of life itself and have always been surrendered in its flow. 

that's our higher power.

the first step is to simply be alive.

we've got that covered.

how does this free us from addiction? 

it doesn't, not really, it just frees us from the illusion of control, gives us pause and a moment to relax and reconsider our position. The first step allows us to be broken and yet also realize that every jagged piece of our existence is held within a spacious whole. That's how we heal, accepting ourselves as we are and allowing life to provide it's own solution. This isn't abdicating action, nor denying responsibility of our present situation. It's surrender to our higher power, the first step and the last one too that need be taken. I have no idea on how to heal, and certainly no advice on how to treat addiction - what worked for me is my path alone. But it started with surrender, admitting that I was powerless over not just my addiction but with every aspect of my life as well, and with that life provided options. They were there all along, yet I was unable to see them, believing too much in my control and the illusion of my power. 

the first step is about honesty, 

and with that...life provides the answers. 

~ 

Peace, Eric 

Soul Awake

Soul awake: 

there is a Sanskrit word, jivanmukta, that translates to liberated while living, or perhaps more poetically stated as. soul awake in this lifetime, and as with most Sanskrit terms it beautifully captures the essence of an experience that can't really be described with contemporary language. Sanskrit itself, as with Hebrew and other ancient languages is actually more of a vibration than a conversational tongue, meant to convey the exact qualities of that which it describes. To contemplate the word jivanmukta is to transcend to a higher vibrational awareness of possibilities, of our potential to be soul awake in this lifetime, of awakening within this very moment. 

and that's really what captivates me, more so than a lifetime of liberation, but just a singular moment of unique freedom expressed through whatever it is I happen to be doing. This is why I've participated in long distance endurance events, extending the possibilities of momentary awakening through many miles and a greater length of time. It happens too in meditation and sometimes my yoga practice, falling into the gap between thoughts, a silence extending infinitely inward which feels to be the bedrock of the universe itself. Often as well my writing takes me to an awakened sense of inspiration, finding words and phrases simply drifting through a spacious place of mind, perfect for what I wish to say, and with no idea of how these words appeared or where they may have arrived from. I am liberated from the act of writing, free from seeking specific words to express a certain meaning. 

everything just happens on its own. 

my soul awake.

at least from the moment of my writing. 

of course jivanmukta is much more than a momentary awakening, it's more truly expressed as a lifetime of liberation, completely freedom now and in the lives that may follow. Although an awakened sage may choose to step off the wheel of samsara, forever merged in infinite wonder. But that's not really what I wish for, at least not any longer, as I have no idea of further lifetimes, nor of an awakening beyond this present moment. I love to simply and easily stumble upon my soul awake, an instant of eternal bliss and liberation found within a fraction of my lifetime. These days this seems to happen quite often now, spontaneously and without my effort given. My soul is always awake, jivanmukta, liberated, and there is no cause for seeking. I am always given a reminder. 

and these moments happen on their own. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Two Points

Two points: 

what exists between two points of anything is simply life, another aspect of its appearance - and we are inseparable from its experience, belonging fully and only to the moment it occurs. In this respect life isn't really a journey at all, there's no set and final destination to be reached. Everything is right now, our story complete, and with no purpose nor meaning other than what we ourselves provide. Our dharma, our true path, is to just be alive, aware, and appreciative that it's so.

in reality, there are no two points anything.

only life.

happening on its own.

this is really our freedom, knowing that there is no real journey, but only transformation, events seamlessly unfolding and that we are immersed within their larger currents. Each moment than is our true beginning, infinite in its potential, and we are capable to flourish exactly where we are. Our dharma is always and only right now. What exist between two points of anything is an illusion of a journey, with no real distance to be measured. 

everything is right now.

of course we set goals, and assign ourselves a purpose, that's just the game we play. We work hard to achieve things, satisfying our ambitions and then we move on to another set agenda. In this way we feel in charge, powerful, and with  a sense of control over our destiny. With some having more control than others it seems. Yet we can see through this, indeed, we deeply have a sense that this ins't true at all. It's simply how the game is played. There's another way to play this game and it's to play it more with love and awareness rather than the self-importance that we believe in. We are not all powerful beings with perfect control over the course of life's journey. But we are immersed in power, belonging fully to the reality of the present moment. Our achievement is to be alive, aware, and it's always presently and instantly granted. That's true power. 

what exists between two points of anything...

is life. 

and we are inseparable from its experience.

~

Peace, Eric 

Taking Refuge

Taking refuge: 

taking refuge in a sound, a vibration really, just the faint idea of a thought given a moment of my attention and then immediately let go. That's meditation, my devotional practice, a repetition of a mantra in an easy flow of sound arising through an endless field of silence. The Buddhist tale refuge in the Three Jewels, the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha, which is recognizing the authority of the historical Buddha, his teaching, and the community that follows its practice. For me, taking refuge is a solitary practice, giving faith in the vibration of the mantra and even more so in its release, not calling for my constant attention but only for the moment that it's given thought, remembered, and that through this I find myself returned to my natural state of stillness, my refuge found. 

taking refuge is a momentary practice.

this appeals to my sense of simplicity as well as my solitary nature, although I do appreciate the support offered by a community that vales such a practice. But I find that overall I am better suited to a quiet lifestyle of few people, more books, and time spent in nature. Two, often three times a day I take refuge in my mantra, a Vedic meditation using a primordial sound, allowing it's vibration to gently lead my thoughts to settle, and through this easy practice I find myself at deep rest, relaxed, surrounded and at home within an infinite sense of silence. 

taking refuge is just returning home.

 it's the mantra itself that offers refuge, not the whole practice, but the vibration alone, the instance of sound matching itself to silence, merging qualities, until again a seamless whole. Each thought of the mantra offers this return and that's what I consider it a devotional practice, to simply appreciation the quality of this sound, its vibration, and allowing it to be the means of an inner transformation, from thought-filled to a truly quiet place of mind. I am devoted to just the moment of its utterance, a thought, and nothing more required. 

everything else happens completely on its own. 

it's my way of taking refuge. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Self -created Fiction

Self-created fiction: 

we tell ourselves stories, and we believe the stories told to us by our parents and trusted authority figures, an image of the world inherited before we've even begun to form opinion. That's the reality we live in and it isn't even truly ours, it belongs to those who've come before and formed a history passed down to us, and to this we add our own beliefs and self-created fiction. 

of course none of it's true, a story is never the reality of any present situation. 

and none of this is wrong either, it's just the way we've come to navigate the world, stories told to make life a little easier to handle. Our parents and teachers wish us safe and to have a better life than those  before, their stories are meant to inform and provide a backdrop of knowledge for children to explore the world and thrive in life. Yet it's also a trap, our vision is now tainted by the beliefs of others and our own stories are shaped by past opinions. 

even our self-created fiction is plagiarized from others. 

and in this way the world continues much the way it has before. 

so our stories can serve and yet they also imprison - it seems a trap, an endless loop of self-created fiction that keeps us from truly living a life fully realized completely on our own. Except that every moment is the bare essence of reality, story free, allowing us to be alive right now, aware, and engaged intimately with our surroundings. Here, now. there is no self to create a story, that all comes after, following the raw experience of each moment. Now, exists as completely freedom, and is always without a self or story, just one inseparable event of intimacy and love expressed. Yes, this too is really a story, my words given description to what is absolutely indescribable and can only be experienced. But it's happening right now and doesn't need by story, that's only for my own benefit of writing and a wish to share by way of words. What I write doesn't have to be true, the experience itself is available right now, always right now, and only requires us to notice. 

and really,

we don't even have to notice.

life continues without story, 

regardless. 

~

Peace, Eric 

To Leave The Page Alone

To leave the page alone: 

sometimes there's a temptation to leave the page alone, unmarked, allowing emptiness to remain pristine for just this day. It often seems that there's already a poem here, perfect in its display, and any word I leave will only mar the appearance of the page, adding my own definition to what's better left unsaid. Of course I always bring myself to write, hoping to add something of beauty, perhaps with some deep meaning left behind, and at the very least to have fulfilled my sense of purpose. 

a writer...writes. 

the truth is that a writer always works with emptiness, befriends it, knowing so well of its infinite potential to hold every word and phrase and never being close to filled. Emptiness is a writer's own spacious nature matched against the page, and a gifted poet knows to weave words through this holy space, honoring it sparsely, never tempted to leave anything more than just the briefest meaning. 

so even with the temptation to leave the page alone - I know that I've been invited here, called to write, and that my words are only temporary in their appearance. Emptiness always remains, being ever present, lending itself to suit my need of purpose, and expanding to hold my every thought and word. My words make little difference, they're not meant to add meaning here, but to only briefly be displayed, and perhaps offer contrast to the primordial nature of the page. That's the only role of beauty, not to last, being seasonal in a sense, and that's it very appearance is just a momentary gift from emptiness. 

to leave the page alone...

and really this was never truly an option, writer's write, accepting emptiness as a gift and leaving words behind, arranged in hopeful beauty, prayer like, honoring the holiness of this opportunity to fulfill their sense of purpose. 

writer's...write. 

it's why we were invited here. 

~

Peace, Eric 

How Simple Things Are

How simple things are: 

finishing up a book on string theory right now, and as almost always when I complete such a book I contemplate how little of it I actually comprehended, quantum physics being so far over my head in most of its concerns that I only glean a faint idea of what's been read. Yet for some reason I'm drawn to this subject, inspired even, and through it's complexities I'm surprised at how simple things are. Physics is the deep explanation of life, a description of the universe at large and through the infinitely small. But what amazes me is that we are presently, right now, living this description, an expression of the Big Bang being shown through even aspect of our lives, that at this very moment we are a swirl of particles somehow defined through the vastness of a void. 

physics explains God.

of course not by using such a word, and not in the belief of any supreme creator having a master plan, but our existence is explained, our arrival from a field of complete emptiness to a vast and complex universe. That's the role of God if we were to give it all a single title. Or if one was really needed. And what science does is no less than explain miracles - again examining all the known complexities and being amazed at how simple things are, the ease of which I take a breath, how perfectly my body functions, and the seamless way I exist within the world, belonging to a system that includes each single detail that gives cause for the universe to continue on. 

all this through no effort of our own.

it's amazing how simple things are. 

there was a statement in the book that surprised and intrigued me, basically saying that as yet, science doesn't know the real world implications of string theory, how it effects our daily reality. And of course it's pretty simply really -  we are the examples of continued vibrations, existing within a universe created by quivers of strings within an energetic structure. We exist as real world implications of string theory, vibrations within a universal mind, God, if you will. We are an essential and seamless part of this complex system. 

God particles, each of us.

and yet how simple things are too, that we exist in such a spontaneous and effortless fashion, finding ourselves suddenly aware and being alive within this complex world...and all we have to do is breathe, allowing our hearts to beat their own easy rhythm, a natural participation of this universal order. It's all physics, everything a vibration without need of explanation. 

simple, really.

~

Peace, Eric 

Original Source

Original source: 

the first cause argument in theology is that everything is traced back to God through effect after effect, that there is an original source found without having any cause at all, simply having always been and being sole reason for existence. This even lends itself to every scientific discovery, giving God credit for everything from the Big Bang through evolution and every other great discovery and advancement. I'm not going to say otherwise, although religion holds no personal answers for me, it remains a theory worthy of consideration, for some at least. 

of course the original source has yet to be explained.

personally, I see the universe as an endless loop, infinite cause and effect without a true beginning and end, just a continuous expression of one thing only in various stages of creation. This holds close to the Upanishads description of cycles of creation and destruction, the universe in repetition of itself for reasons of its own cosmic evolution. I never quite buy the evolution aspect of this theory and always give first and only cause to joy - that the universe self-creates for the point of it's joyful becoming and that destruction is simply the means of a new beginning. 

but it's all speculation, really.

there's no reason for me to believe anything.

for me it's just the curiosity through the act of writing, my own cosmology of another empty page that lends itself to my fulfillment as a writer. It's another endless loop, with each morning's page presenting itself again as the original source for every idea and inspiration to be expressed. I have no idea the first cause of this endeavor, but again I give it's reason to the sake of joy. It all seems, to me at least, to circle back to love, that the universe is written into existence by the ineffable hand of love, original source of every inspiration, and always the cause for another story to be written.   

that's my own cosmology.

my endless loop.

and only original source. 

~

Peace, Eric  

To Consider

To consider: 

it's amazing to consider the infinite number of things that have to take place in an exact and perfect manner for life to be as it is right now. I'm almost at a lost to even begin a description, starting with the body and I'm immediately overwhelmed by it's cohesion, each cell working in individual function and yet somehow an entire body occurs. The body is a truly incredible instrument to consider, and yet those cells that work so hard to provide us form are made of molecules, broken down further still and we arrive to an arrangement of atoms. To think of the body, really breaking it down to every level for consideration, and we come to those very basic building blocks of reality, our debt and gratitude should then extend to the particles that give cause for the existence of atoms, protons and neutrons sitting central while electrons swirl about them. This too is what we are, from cell to particle is our consideration, an amazing arrangement of infinite things that give rise to who we are. 

 but then and even more amazing still...

we find that particles exists as waves, not points really, nothing of substance that adds together for the accumulation of form - atoms mostly consist of fields, nothing really, simply potentiality for our consideration. It seems that finally we are no more than faint ideas, a thought that somehow gains vibrations and continues through these possible channels to eventually be a cell. Just one cell. And infinite times more and there's a body, a mind, coherence between the two. 

so what we truly are is a possibility. 

somehow made so. 

it's amazing to consider. 

~

Peace, Eric   

In The Woods

In the woods:

in the woods, always such a poetic phrase to me, implying so much with just it's utterance or first sight upon a page. Here, it tells me, is life, a gathering of trees that host a diversity of beingness, individual creatures and plants that really form a single entity of a living expression. I love being in the woods, even near, walking a path that cuts through its mystery yet never truly diminishes the secret that it holds. There is a feeling that I'm welcomed here, invited, but there's something holy invoked as well, as if I'm now returned to my own ancient homeland, birthplace of my soul, my DNA is found entwined from leaf to deepest root. In the woods is really where my soul belongs, whispering through the branches, joining in birdsong and the teeming sounds of varied life. 

a single entity, truly.

and the word woodland, as if it were two things that could never exist apart from each other, and a single word was needed to convey the intimacy of this connection. It's a beautiful word, invoking the essence of a true belonging, that trees have gathered at the bequest of land, soil rich for just this giving, and earth has gifted us a single expression...woodland...

so much beauty in a single word.

that's the true theme here, as my writing unfolds, and I catch a glimpse of what the woods are wishing me to see - that there is a singular intent of living, life, varied, but always an expression of just one thing alone, and that I am an intimate part of this as well, essential by grace and virtue of my appearance. I am never really in the woods, as that implies even a subtle sense of separation, more honestly it's better said that I am simply of the land, same as any tree, rooted deep and reached to the very touch of sky, being gifted too by earth. 

in the woods...such a beautiful phrase,

telling me I belong.

~

Peace, Eric 

Preference

Preference: 

my preference is the mantra and it's easy, ever more subtle vibration that seems lead me to a deeper stillness - and yet thoughts occur, my attention drawn to other sounds, and the mantra will sometimes go unnoticed for a certain length of time. But I gently return to the preference of the mantra, again giving it my present favor, no effort to correct the mind of it's activities, just easily coming back to the mantra in its own natural pattern and rhythm, whatever pace it seeks to hold. 

and that's my meditation...simply a preference for the mantra.

it's often believed that meditation is a rarefied position, one held without thought, and that only monks and yogi's ever achieve a complete sense of stillness. But the truth is that the mind is given to motion, spacious and allowing, and thoughts are always passing. That's the nature of the mind - and the goal of meditation, if there really is a goal, isn't to bypass this nature but to simply notice how thoughts belong as motion, never static, and that with their passing there remains an every present silence that allows for their existence. That's the deeper nature of the mind, silence, restful by its very presence, and no effort is ever required to reach this, always being present as the reality of who we really are. 

quiet by our very nature.

the mantra is simply a subtle vibration, no meaning to the words, just a faint idea repeated with an easy and gentle attention given to it, and with no attachment nor concern as it plays throughout the mind. It only has our preference, belonging as a seamless flow of thoughts, mantra, silence, however it is the sequence will unfold - until we find ourselves in the depth of a stillness lasting for uncountable moment, timeless, simply resting as existence. 

that's not the goal of meditation though, not really, in truth there isn't an expected outcome, everything simply happening on its own, an easy path without direction, nor any destination. We're already home, we've arrived here having found that we've never actually left at all. Meditation is just sitting, but also allowing ourselves the preference of the mantra, lending ourselves to its vibration, and seeing how life flows as one continuous, seamless moment, well beyond the private world of our concerns. 

my preference is the mantra, but every thought is now allowed, whatever seeming distraction that occurs, it all belongs within this seamless, continuous moment, everything does. 

and that's my meditation. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Almost Always

almost always I find myself eager to write, every morning, just after sitting in meditation and then with coffee at hand and the sun just hinting at the start of day, ideas begin to form, words gather in phrase and theme - and the energy of writing then takes over. It's that easy really, with little stress and absolutely no strain involved within this process.  Words either flow or I sit and wait for their appearance, patient, knowing how this all unfolds. And yet almost always I find myself enthralled by the mystery of it all, that words will appear isn't ever in doubt, not really, but I never truly have a firm idea of where they might be leading, what their message is about, and their story will be told in final. 

everything I write is mystery.

almost always. 

it's better this way, for me at least, as once I struggled with ideas, demanding inspiration show on schedule and immediately meet all of my creative needs. Almost always I was disappointed. Inspiration doesn't seem to care for my demands, beauty unresponsive to my call, and I was unwilling to humble myself in waiting, believing any talent in writing was my own and not simply a gift that somehow shows itself in a flow of words. Of course I was an unhappy writer, as anyone who claims such a title is when there's a failure of words to appear. 

writer's write.

it's that simple. 

and it's just a temporary title, really, calling myself a writer, truly only belonging to the moment that words are given, and most often I am better related to the silence that precedes each word, existing still and always after they unfold. No label is the reality of experience, none, and it was this discovery that freed me to receive inspiration when it showed and not make demands for its appearance. Almost always I'm rewarded by humbling myself of any title and the hubris that surrounds such small concerns. I'm not really a writer at all it seems, but I'm deeply, intimately, involved in the process of writing. 

really, I'm simply part of the mystery that unfold each morning, essential as that first hint of sun and freshly brewed coffee. I am the ritual of a momentary expression, almost always aware now of where I most truly belong. 

it's a beautiful place to find myself.

here, 

unfolding as the morning's mystery...

~

Peace, Eric 

My Own Sense

My own sense: 

my own sense is that consciousness is all there is, everything. It's not that the universe itself is conscious,  as that would imply even a slight degree of separation, but that consciousness is expressing itself as the universe - a subtle yet important detail. This isn't quite panpsychism, which holds the view that mind is a built in feature of reality, consciousness infused, and that there is some sort of interaction between matter and the non-material stuff of the mind. I like that idea too, but it's not the sense I get as my own thoughts quiet and the universe seems to open itself as my own seamless state of being. 

all I know is consciousness. 

of course I could be wrong, it could really just be the byproduct of a chemical reaction occurring in my brain, or perhaps the universe is only a simulation written in code by some higher intelligence and we're living in a fiction of a world. My insights provide no absolute truth to anything, just a sense, a faint idea that holds itself as a possibility of how things are. I'm not invested in any belief, and my very next insight could prove that my every last thoughts is completely wrong. 

my own sense is that I'm aware, happily so, and that through this awareness I'm intimately involved with the world, a deep belonging that defies description even as it's expressed through every aspect of my existence. That's my only true philosophy, life being easily expressed, and that I'm somehow gifted with the awareness of how rare this possibility of existence may actually be, perhaps vanishing in the very next instant, and that this moment itself is all there is for me to cherish and adore. 

perhaps.

but again, anything outside of actual living is all speculation - at least that's my own sense, even as insights steer me towards new ideas to ponder and explore. 

my own sense...only hints at possibilities. 

~

Peace, Eric 

More So

More so: 

more so, it's of fulfillment, not of wishes and desires come true, but of our own realized sense of what we really are - that through some means of inquiry we arrive first to an inherent emptiness of self, an absence of any true individual found separate from the world. It's then through continued seeing that we come to know ourselves more so as capacity, not truly empty at all, but a spaciousness that allows for the appearance of life in every form. 

capacity serving for the fulfillment of the world. 

this is the realization of the Buddhist Heart Sutra in the actuality of its expression, life, the understanding of who we really are. There is no purpose here other than simply being, that's it, and yet this is a truly noble, selfless cause, one of continuously accepting life through its every twist and turn, whatever appearance wishes to be shown - we serve it all through out capacity to allow. 

and more so, we express it all as love. 

of course this is just one representation, an inspiration really, and not meant to be accurate in its portrayal, as reality itself is far too seamless to ever truly be told. Words are only pointers and we take them at the value of their description, their true worth is of beauty, ornaments arranged in such a way as to give pause and consideration to the emptiness that allows for their appearance. Everything written is a Heart Sutra in its way, beginning with emptiness, the capacity of page and mind to come to be fulfilled by ideas and then expressed as words. 

it's all an act of inspiration. 

more so, it's simply life, reality. 

and that we are capacity serving for the fulfillment of the world. 

~

Peace, Eric 

   

So Subtle

So subtle: 

and at some point even the mantra grows so subtle in thought that it seems to vanish completely on it's own, leaving only a spacious, open awareness that claims itself as my true and ancient presence. This is who I really am, at least for this moment, right now, without the sway of thought and a world that offers constant information. I am simply the capacity that's found present when everything grows silent, calm, and in this way I serve in an inspired sense for my own fulfillment too, this inherent emptiness allowing the creation of my world. 

to be lead here by the mantra....

or that's the way it seems, as really I am this capacity all along, and as the mantra grows so subtle in thought, vanishing at some point, this spaciousness is just revealed as my true and seamless nature. Here, it's seen that thoughts belong in passing, a temporary reality given to their belief, and that my role as capacity itself remains unchanging, emptiness untouched by anything that passes.  

I am reveled through meditation.

as the mantra grows so subtle, a whisper, and then nothing, and I am vanished between thoughts, spaciousness revealed and found seamless in its hold. Nothing is denied here, everything is allowed its place and length of stay, meditation isn't the absence of thought but only the notice of their passing, the weightless reality of their existence. As the mantra grows so subtle...it's all revealed here, the absolute in essence, silence being my one and true home. 

and I am lead here through the mantra, so subtle in thought, whispered, and then let go to the deep silence that always follows. I am revealed, not really due to meditation, nor the repetition of the mantra, but by my own eventual surrender, a spontaneous letting go that only seems to follow to the whisper of the mantra, so subtle now...

until only silence known. 

~

Peace, Eric 

First Few Words

First few words:

it's usually in the first few words that I know, as inspiration begins to lend itself to a theme, and writing takes on a certain energetic flow that leads on the way to a better understanding of my role today. Each morning is different, always, and I am never quite the same writer as the one who was inspired yesterday, a subtle difference in my approach to words, yet always with the same reverence for their arrival. The first few words inform me of the writer I am today, urging me to let go of any expectations of how this time should go, asking that I bring a quality of softness to my listening, allowing the silence between words to actually guide me through my morning writing and not rush to fill this holy pause. 

in this way, writing is really more a form of prayer.

a sacred conversation between myself and inspiration.

and the first few words reflect this.

usually, at least, as sometimes I take this process for granted, bringing expectation to my writing that simply don't belong to the morning's inspiration. Two things inform me of the writer that I will become each morning, one is the quality of my listening and the other is always the first few words that follow. There is never a rush for this to happen, or st least there shouldn't be, as this is a process well beyond my role as a writer, belonging solely to the gift of inspiration. 

perhaps I should clarify that my view of prayer isn't one of asking to receive anything that doesn't already belong directly to the moment. I am not requesting words to fill a place of silence but only for their revelation to be written. The first few words already exist through inspiration, they are gifted without any need of asking. 

my only role is to listen...

and the first few words inform me of the writer I will be each morning. 

~

Peace, Eric

Argument

Argument: 

the argument is usually of the origin of consciousness as well as its lasting value after death - are we consciousness beings of a limited span, made of material that somehow gives rise to our awareness of the world? Or does consciousness precede our particular lifespan, with the universe itself being the basis of our awareness and one true existence? It's a valid argument of the ages and up to this point no one seems to know for sure, materialism still holding sway in science and even many philosophies, while mystics and seers mostly hold the view that everything is an expression of pure consciousness. Of course it's not always a line drawn so clearly between two (or more, really) camps - quantum physics is weird enough in its description of reality to offer explanations that seem to sometimes merge the two ideas, as if physicist are modern day mystics that have a keener insight into the nature of reality than ever before and offer a marriage of sorts between materialism and one that also includes a bit more idealism. Sometimes too it's the other way around, with materialism being less involved in any explanation. 

it's an interesting argument that's made its way to certain spiritual circles, a nonduality crowd that insists that consciousness is one and all, a never ending process of our existence, and those who hold a similar view of many scientist, based on materialism, and that we are finite beings that somehow gained a sense of awareness from a chance arrangement of matter, limited in our time and existence. The truth is that we simply don't know anything for certain, no argument made clear, and even the best educated guess is still a fore-way into mystery.

consciousness is all.

that's it.

my only argument.

and it's easy for me to say this as it's the only way I ever experience the world, there's no argument otherwise and I have no idea if there's anything other than what I'm aware of right now. I'm aware, alive, and continuously astonished that's it's so. If this is a finite experience, a one and done existence, than how much more a miracle to find myself gifted with life and the opportunity to know this. If I'm an infinite expression of pure consciousness than everything belongs exactly as it's found, no need to argue for things to be other than they are. 

it's the perfect arrangement of mystery. 

I simply don't know.

and live with live without the argument that I do. 

~

Peace, Eric