Original Meditation

Original meditation: 

it's nature that heals, restoring us to an easier pace, a peaceful place of mind, and it begins immediately with first breath of air as we're surrounded by trees, perhaps the presence of a stream or larger body of water, birdsong's and chirp of insects. This is our original meditation, just being as we are in the presence of nature, heart rate slowed down to its minimal effort, breath in easy rhythm, and brainwaves adjusted to the pattern of our surroundings, an energy of fractals and design. 

we're healed in the surest sense...

of simply being home. 

one of the earliest forms of formal meditation was repetition of a sound, silently drawn inward towards a complete listening, merging with the subtle energy of the word. What was first heard and later became mantras were the sounds of nature, but deeply so, hearing the essence from which they emerged and the silence that they fell back to - our original meditation was being immersed in nature, a true and deep listening to the world. 

and that's what nature returns us to, this original listening, full bodied, our every fiber and inch of skin responding to the vibration of earth and air. Nothing more has to be done, we're here, and that's enough to restored to an easier place of being, our roots of existence branched once more through ground and breath returned to sky. We are matched with the patterns of nature, neurons firing to a slower pace, responsive to their surroundings. 

this is our original meditation...

 a deep listening to nature, 

its mantras and patterns urging our return. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Mallard

Mallard: 

of all the animals I see each morning, even when I'm fortunate and catch sight of the rare, secretive ones, it's ducks that are perhaps most beloved by me. They're common to be my neighborhood pond, familiar my entire life, and yet never overlooked, always a deep love for this fascinating bird. This is the mallard, perhaps the most recognizable duck in the world, the breeding male offers a beautiful show of color, bright green heads with a ring of white at the base of their deck. Females and non-breeding brings are no less lovely, although not as brightly shown, more subtle, a tone that seems to match the water of their home and yet still displays a unique blue spectrum that's visible in flight. 

it's their vulnerability that most affects me, that they are easy prey for so many animals that are near, even ones that seem less likely to be a threat such a green and blue herons, crows, and a few fish that pose a threat as well. For several weeks after breeding season they are flightless, having shed their flight feathers, more vulnerable than ever now, and retreating to secretive locations until their ability to fly is recovered. A mallards life is never easy, seldom safe, and the predation-avoidance behavior of sleeping with one eye open, resting a specific brain hemisphere while the other side is awake and watchful was first demonstrated by mallards. 

ducks have managed to make full use of their brain in order to survive. 

and yet the mallard lives fearlessly in an environment that offers every reason to be afraid, they are restful in their waters, strong flyers, and have a unique ability to thrive given all the dangers found at hand. Mallards teach me the strength of vulnerability, that to be truly fearless is not a single act of courage but a life lived with a  sure and certain grace found through this awareness, being strong exactly as I am right now, without need of pretending that I am anything other than vulnerable as well. 

mallards are my spirit guide for courage and true strength, continuously showing me the way through vulnerability is to simply be myself without a false show of strength, nor pretense of being anything other than afraid at times. These are the birds that tug my heartstrings, invoking my protective urge, even as they teach me courage. 

through their vulnerability...

I am shown the way of fearless living. 

~

Peace, Eric 

As An Advisor

As an advisor: 

it was my first reading of Carlos Castaneda that I encountered the advice of keeping death as an advisor, a shocking consideration to my early teen mind, especially as it seemed to be a subject to be avoided or discussed in hushed tones if needed to be talked of at all. Of course I was familiar with death beyond a concept at this point, having lost a string of family members through the years, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and most sadly of all was my nephew of just a few months dying suddenly in his crib. This last death had a profound affect on me as it was my first experience truly mourning the loss of an another, that such a young life was no more, forever gone from this world. 

so to read of death as an advisor came as an actual confrontation to my young mind, completely turning my thoughts on how to consider my own mortality, a subject I had never wanted to even consider before. But I was fascinated by the world of Castaneda, a desert landscape filled with spirits, mystery, and magic a completely different way of viewing life, so radically opposite from my suburban teenage years. What this was, so early on, was a seed planted, my conscious expanding from this point on to other readings of death and dying, experiences with altered states, soon beginning a life long meditation practice, and further loss of loved ones and friends - now growing ever nearer in intimacy and connection. 

not yet as an advisor, 

yet death had made its presence known.

it's no easy task to keep death in mind, especially at a younger age when even loss seems to touch us only briefly before moving on, being so engrossed in the actuality of living that there seems little need to give the subject much consideration. It's different now, I'm older, death ever nearer with each day that's gone, and I've lived with an intimacy of it's presence, deeply so, being right there as it reached to touch my father, granting me a final moment of goodbye. 

death had been close by for quite some time, we felt its presence as my father grew weaker, talked of it, yet still in hushed tones as if not wishing to draw it any nearer. I still hadn't taken death as an advisor, too occupied with my own grief and fear of loss, but it's voice was more familiar now, whispering, and I was slowly allowing myself to listen to what it wished for me to learn. It was my father's last few moments that death finally became my advisor, an actuality that's not to be avoided. Castaneda says that death is always present, just behind our let shoulder, stalking us through life. I've been present as it reached the end of its stalk and tapped my father's shoulder for his life to end, there was fear, ours, his in dying and mine for the loss I knew was here...

and then, 

there was just a letting go. 

everything surrendered.

in that very final moment...only peace, my father in his last breath and my own acceptance that her was gone. That moment, death became my true advisor. It's a simple message, not at all cloaked in esoteric knowledge, beyond even the need to try and understand, it's inherent in our very nature - we know this, death, always present in the intimacy of life, a reweaving of the fabric of our existence. Nothing is truly lost, although we certainly mourn the absence of familiar form. 

life continues. 

here's what death tells me, that my own self-importance will eventually be surrendered, and that's it's easier to do so now, letting go of any sense of personal ownership, that I'm entitled to anything other than what I can hold within my final moment. Death urges me to be at peace, to not cling to my beliefs, or make demands on how my life should be right now, to hold my desires and efforts lightly, easily letting go, detached from any final outcome. Most importantly death tells me that my father continues on through atoms and particles, existing as the fabric of the world's design, and even at this moment is in the midst of becoming something other, a new appearance, life. 

Death advisers me to see life in all of its continuation. 

letting go of any sense of permanence.

finally, 

with death as an advisor...

I'm listening. 

~

Peace, Eric  

It Bypasses Language

It bypasses language: 

what I love about the Headless Way as presented by Douglas Harding, is that it bypasses language entirely, perhaps an odd thing for me to day and then continue writing of - yet words too belong here, descriptive, hopefully poetic, and knowing of the impossibility of capturing anything that's true. Harding urges us to look, being sole authority here, and then simply rest in this encounter. Nothing else has to be done, no specific mantra or meditation, it's not a means of being mindful, but only resting here, aware, allowing ourselves to be exactly as we truly are. 

and that's not for me to say.

it bypasses language. 

and amazingly, for me, I am filled with creativity by what's found, a pureness that defies words and yet fills me with an urge to be descriptive. That's the gift of emptiness, everything belongs, it's a spaciousness that begs to be filled with the entirety of all life holds. More so, it's seamless, life is here, not amidst this emptiness, not existing within some great void, but being presently the same exact thing, an ever exchanging flow of emptiness and form. 

it bypasses language...

and still allows for inspiration to be known.

so with this I write freely, I'm granted the use of words as well as their failure. I'm writing due to the creative urge of an emptiness found and the mystery of it's content, a void and its instantaneous fill of possibilities, spontaneously arising, the very essence of true magic.  

it bypasses language,

even as I'm urged to write. 

~

Peace, Eric 

As A Practice

As a practice: 

thinking of gratitude as a practice, invoking it as a matter of course through journaling, or simply being mindful of all that's been given and making note that we're thankful to receive. There are countless ways to practice and it's a worthwhile endeavor, our appreciation for life grows through these reminders, that we're so often forgetful of all the things that give us joy and pleasure. Many studies of have shown that being grateful makes us happier, not because we've gained anything, but only for the sake of what we already have right now, and most of it obtained freely as a gift for being alive. 

we use gratitude as a practice to remember what's inherent,

that life is always present...

always giving. 

the word gratitude comes from the Latin word gratia, which means grace and that's a gift beyond our practice, it can only be invoked through our surrender and patiently waited on, watched for, yet never anxiously so, as that seems to keeps it's presence at bay, blocked by our pleas and demands for it to show. By its very nature grace can only be acknowledged, being a mystery bestowed without favor, arriving completely on it's own and leaving us forever changed and grateful in its wake. 

gratitude as a practice is really a prayer for grace, not to be received, but to be mindful of its presence, to recognize the course it's played throughout our lives, continuously, yet mostly unseen. At a certain point it's no longer a practice, we're aware of grace as presence, grateful, spontaneously so, overcome by the gift of air received as breath, heartbeat playing easy in its rhythm, and our bodies root-deep in belonging to the very fabric of the earth and sky. 

our practice is being alive, surrendering to grace...

and with this we see it was never truly a practice at all. 

just life,

awakening to the gift of its own existence.

~

Peace, Eric 

Inversions

Inversion: 

perhaps the two most associated poses with any yoga practice are the headstand (Sirsasana) and shoulder stand (Sarvangasana) long considered to be the king and queen of all yoga poses as they bring a balance of Shakti, the divine feminine energy located at the base of the spine, and Shiva, pure consciousness that sits at the crown of the head. These are inversion poses, defined as any posture where our head is below our heart, giving us an upside down view of the world. 

I have three favorites here, part of my twice daily routine, two of which are really easy to practice, downward facing dog and the very simple forward bend. Neither of these postures take much time to learn or to put into immediate use and receive the benefits of inversions. My third favorite is the queen of all poses, the shoulder stand, a bit more complex but not impossible to learn. It's mostly a matter of trust that our body will support us through this hold, and it's with that surrender that we gain the unique benefit offered by inversion poses, our perspective of the world instantly changed, rearranged from the familiar to a slight shift of view that causes us to reconsider how we've long viewed our daily lives. Everything is seen differently from these postures, most especially when we're complete upside down, poised, and yet surrendering ourselves to a full turn of how we observe the world. 

it's a shift of energy that brings deep insights. 

and we see that nothing is ever completely as we've believed. 

the health benefits along are worth giving these priorities in our practice, they ease anxiety and will instantly lower our blood pressure. These are energizing postures, but subtle, causing an awakening in perspective as well supporting our immune system and strengthening the body. Inversions are considered to be a fountain of youth, vitalizing, improving circulation and giving the heart the deep rest that it so richly deserves. 

yet it's that shift in view that truly calls me to these postures, inversions, seeing what's familiar from a new perspective, different every time a pose is held, and how this will then carry onward to how I see the world. 

such a subtle shift...

and I see that nothing is really as I've long believed. 

the world is always changing.

uniquely to my view. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Only 20 Minutes

Only 20 minutes: 

the goal is early light, as close to sun's arrival to the new day as possible, getting those first rays for the benefit of mind and body, a chemical reaction happening in the brain that leads all the way to evening and a preparation for a sound and peaceful slumber. It's more than that too, it's for the soul, reconnecting my spirit to the land by footsteps taken, and my breath taking part in a giving exchange of air to breathe and the exhalation of carbon dioxide for my neighborhood plants and trees to thrive. My walk is only 20 minutes, perhaps a bit longer if I'm carried away by the beauty of the morning, brief by my once training standards when I walk for miles at a stretch. 

but my goal is different now...

for this walk at least. 

really though, there isn't a goal, it's just to greet the morning, getting in that first light and to find out what nature will offer me each morning. On any morning I am apt to be surprised, my walk is only 20 minutes but it's filled with wildlife and the season's deep shade of green right now. It's my favorite time of year, fast approaching solstice, light in daylight and opportunity to witness the variety of life in the immediate neighborhood surroundings. 

I live close to a small pond, teeming with birds, with the most common sighting of crows and robins, catbirds often heard yet in hidden in thick weeds and branches, the loveliness of red-winged blackbirds standing out against the background of cattails and green/brown water of the pond. There are cardinals and blue jays, the occasional magic of a bluebird, or rare sight of oriel appears. Geese and ducks abound and on some fortunate mornings I catch sight of blue and green herons feeding by the shore. Recently a cormorant has made a home here, my first ever sighting of one here, a gift indeed each morning. Occasionally there's hawk perched on a branch, watchful, nothing missed through all that happens, poised for any opportunity for a meal. More often there's an owl heard without ever catching sight, yet sometimes, a glimpse, and at first it's feeling of being watched before spotted, well hidden in the branches, retiring for the day after a full night of hunting, I suppose. 

my walk is only 20 minutes and I'm gifted by this world.

there are rabbis here, squirrels, and of course sly, mysterious foxes stalking through the brush. Rumors of coyotes, yet never sighted here. but I'm hopeful. Raccoons and the surprise of opossums, both seldom spotted accept by quick glance as they scramble across the path towards the deeper woods. So much wildlife, a vast ecosystem of insects stretched beneath my stride, reminding me to be mindful of of my steps, respectful of even the smallest life, that everything has a dharma of its own. 

this is my blessing, home, life revealing itself to me.

my walk is only 20 minutes...

and yet,

an entire world is given. 

~

Peace, Eric 

My blood pressure: 

high blood pressure runs in my family, my grandfather died of a stroke at a fairly young age, my father had one as well but recovered and remained fairly health for many years after, although for much of his adult life he was one medication to help control his blood pressure. I've been fortunate, a lifetime of exercise and almost and decade and half of a plant-based diet have kept me healthy, my blood pressure always in the normal range, cholesterol too, and most every metric reflects the effort of my care. Meditation, yoga, daily time in nature, and creative outlets - these all serve to keep me fit and energetic, manage stress, and add deep dimensions of joy to my life.

and still I check my blood pressure daily, morning and evening, a habit I came too during my father's care when I would take mine immediately after checking his as he was concerned with the toll a caregiver must endure and thought it might be helpful to keep track and take early measures to correct an upward trend if it seem needed. It was a smart strategy and became a ritual of mutual care. This was typical of his concern, never wanting me to suffer for the sake of his needs later in his life. 

a few months ago during an episode of Bell's Palsy, the short term medication for treatment caused my blood pressure to soar. It was interesting to see the immediate impact of breathwork to my numbers, how just a few minutes of mindful breathing, pranayama, could return both blood pressure and heart rate to a healthy range and that it would last for several hours after. This reminded me that numbers themselves aren't the only measure of health, that it's the daily effort of care that truly matters. 

between these two points of checking my blood pressure, early morning and right before bed - I seldom give thought to these issues. What I do for my health is mostly a routine that's highly enjoyable, and the pleasure of this care actually adds to the benefits, with every point of self-love adding seamlessly to the whole affair. Honestly, I'm not at all concerned about my blood pressure, my lifestyle seems to keep everything in check just fine, and there seems little need to worry. Yet I find this ritual important, it's a connection, something shared with my father that still calls for my return. Really, it's just a mindful moment, a few relaxing breaths, numbers reflecting on how I feel right now...and a reminder that my role of caretaker continues, for myself, and from this place of true self-care extended towards others, inclusive, holding the entire world. 

checking my blood pressure...

a reminder of this care. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Savasana

even with decades of yoga my practice still surprises me with an asana that grabs my attention in a pull towards truly understanding it, giving a certain pose a priority in my daily routine in an attempt to deepen my connection to its hold. Lately it's been savasana, corpse pose, a deceptively simple posture of rest and surrender, most often placed at the end of a yoga sequence in order to relax both mind and body and allow the practice to settle in the benefits that it offered. 

it's an easy pose to overlook.

indeed I've often rush through this posture, either eager to begin the very next sequence or ready to move on and end my practice for the day. Yet it's a profound and deeply meaningful posture that really requires a commitment to better understand its importance to our practice. Physically, savasana offers a host of benefits - relieving mild depression, easing insomnia, reducing frequency and severity of headaches and migraines, as well as reducing high blood pressure. This is a posture that calms the nervous system, providing a deep rest on a cellular level due to the commitment of our surrender. For me it's been an important aid in helping me relax facial tension resulting from a misaligned jaw that causes me no small amount of pain, breathing concerns, and anxiety that will sometimes produce panic attacks in the middle of the night. Savasana offers me a return to rest, a mindful position to notice the tension, surrendering myself to the exactness of the experience without rushing for an immediate change. I'm present to the pain, feeling it without need judgement or comparison. 

and even my preference of relief is simply an opinion. 

that's the art of a truly deep surrender. 

it's also the challenge of this pose, relaxing our preference and opinions, not giving one thought favor over any other - at least for the few moments that we hold savasana. What's noticed is that as the body reduces its overall tension, thoughts will rush in to feel the void, our attention will be drawn to physical and emotional sensations overlooked through the busyness of our everyday mind. In savasana we surrender, deeply so, to the point of ultimately recognizing the qualities of it's name - corpse pose, the release of our concerns for physical and emotional affairs. 

if only briefly. 

this doesn't mean the absent of thoughts or physical sensations, although at a certain point they often seem to pass and not offer a return. When I truly surrender to savasana I am a corpse to all but the reality of my awareness, not separate or at all removed from what's present, but simply an easy allowing space of all that occurs with the very moment of my surrender. 

I'm not fighting what is present.

a truly, deeply, letting go...

only the emptiness of savasana remains.

spacious

aware. 

~

Peace, Eric 

A Greater Ecosystem

A greater ecosystem: 

even my home holds a certain wilderness, an extension of the greater ecosystem found indoors and smaller form. I am always happy to find spiders living with me, knowing that they keep me safe by preying on insects that are less friendly to my peace of mind. Spiders are only occasional visitors, I will find one in a more remote corner of my home, spinning a small web and preparing for a stay. Generally, I'll leave them alone, knowing that it's only a short while for their stay and that eventually they'll find their way outdoors after spending just a few days here. 

these spiders show me that there truly is a greater ecosystem involved and we're not at all removed from its hold, and that yes, even my home is a certain wilderness, a spider's hunting ground, a place for it to roam or build a web. Some spiders, such as the wolf spider, eschew building a web for a more active hunt, they might be seen in dark corners or traveling across a basement floor. They're on the hunt, active in pursuit, stalking insects that might be seen as a pest and less welcome in my home. Wold spiders might prefer to be outdoors, better suited to the wilderness of my yard where prey is more plentiful. If I see one inside and able to catch it without doing harm I might capture and release it outside. 

my rule in every ecosystem is to do no harm. 

or as little as possible, not purposely causing any pain. 

it's the webs that most particularly fascinate me, intricate in design, purposeful, and that a single spider can construct such a thing from its own body. It would be a shame for me to wreck a work of effort and beauty, especially know that it works in my favor, capturing insects that might prove more harmful in my home, most especially if a mosquito finds its way indoors. Webs have a deep significance and meaning for us, a micro example of the universal design. That Indra's Web contains jewels that reflect the entire universe into existence and every strand vibrates with energy and purpose. String theory proposes that particles are thin filaments of energy that vibrate the universe into matter, and with that we find ourselves existing in an infinite web of our own and that every strand vibrates with great meaning. 

an with this, a house spider shows me my connection to the world, the greater ecosystem to which I most truly belong, an intricate web of deep meaning and design. What a spider teaches me is that everywhere is home, and every inch of it is a wilderness too, seamless from fields and woods to indoors, all strands of an infinite web, vibrating in the pure potentiality of existence. 

a greater ecosystem...

home. 

~

Peace, Eric 

4:00 AM

4:00 AM 

it seems the perfect time to start my day, before sunlight has even a hinted to appear, 4:00 am, and within minutes from waking I'm deep in meditation, embraced by silence from all sides. I am not a natural early riser, this would have been a difficult practice years before, impossible through my youth. Yet for whatever reasons mystery holds, it's quite natural now, easy, and I look forward to these predawn hours being completely my own. 

a quiet time of inspiration. 

4:00 AM is considered to be the thinnest timeline between the material world and spiritual realms, porous by its very nature, and that spirit leaks through readily with secrets to be shared. It's a beautiful time to be outdoors, night creatures are returning to their lairs, songbirds giving practice notes to the quiet air, and one can feel those thin places most easily now. Even my suburban landscape is ancient, there's secrets here, root deep in soil and brought forth through branch and leaves, by mist and dew points held by every blade of grass, and patient stance of rocks half buried in the earth. 

it's all a thin place, everywhere, but only for the briefest time. 

4:00 AM shows me the magic of the world.

and other worlds as well. 

for whatever reason, mystery calls me at this hour, urging me to wake but keep myself silent, to listen to the soft remains of darkness and  the earliest sounds of morning, to meditate, write, and to immerse myself in nature. I find it quite easy, natural, as if this has been my time to rise. 

4:00 AM...

and the world itself awakes me. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Geese

Geese: 

perhaps with the exception of squirrels and robins, I most often see geese on my morning walks, they will be spread out from the pond and occupying small fields and lawns, or sometimes in a short flight above my house as they travel between the various nearby ponds. When I was a kid they were less frequent visitors, more true in their migrations and traveling great distances between their seasonal homes. I loved hearing their honking communication and catching sight of their V-formation of flight. For me this was a true touch of wildlife, a sign of deep wilderness, as they were travelers, not meant to stay too near my suburban home for any length of time. 

it was a thrill to hear them or glimpse them overhead...

my own wild streak active in imagination. 

yet over the years they have made my neighborhood their home, some only migrating short distances to escape the heat of summer or the colder days when the pond might freeze. I can count on seeing them daily, their my geese now, part of my home, belonging to my heart. What I've read is that there are two distinct types of geese here, true migratory birds that overwinter between their long distance flights, and year round residents that have made this area their home for many generations. They are ancestors of geese from a reintroduction program dating back decades to a time when there was great worry about the species surviving in Maryland at all due to aggressive hunting and damage to their habitat. This area is now truly their home, no need to travel great distance. 

everything they need is here. 

I like knowing that theirs still a wild flock above, seasonal, and that I will only catch sight of them, or hear their navigational honks only a few times a year. There's still a wild streak in my imagination, a longing to know a true wilderness even if it's so far above in flight and distant sound. It remains a thrill, an actual physical sensation activated by their call, as if I'm meant to surrender all I'm doing now and join them in their flight. 

and the wildness of my imagination...

I always do. 

there's no less love for the geese that stay year round. They've chosen this as their home, the little pond that offered me a place to roam since I was a child. They're still wild too - and I imagine the same thrill strikes a chord in their imagination whenever they hear their kinship calling from above. But for whatever reason they remain, safer here, more familiar. 

home. 

even as they're urged in flight...

from a wildness calling from above. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Making a Living

Making a living: 

I've always been somewhat of a loss at making a living, even the term makes little sense to me being that I'm already alive and seem to be making it just fine with breath and heartbeat and the infinite things my body does completely on its own to keep me functioning just fine within the world. It's weird to consider that my job is what it takes to make a living, my life devoted to a career for a certain length of time before I'm able to simply relax and be alive. Perhaps some of this is envy on my end as I've never felt called by passion to pursue a certain direction for a lifelong vocation, not job wise at least, but I've always been drawn to writing, being creative, my own thoughts expressed in poetic fashion. 

it's never been a means of making a living though. 

fortunately my needs have always been simple and I've gotten by with jobs that satisfied the bills to be paid, providing me with healthy food and a home - even if this wasn't my vocation, not really a career of passion. Somehow though, I was making a living, or I should say that I was creatively being alive, lived and expressed fully as an aspect of life, not defined by a job, or present role. 

being exactly as I am. 

always. 

the truth is, we don't really make a living, life's already been given to us by a sure and certain grace of mystery. Or more so,  is that it's not something that can ever truly be given, it what we are by the very fabric of our nature,  that we are born from every infinite strand of its structure to be exactly as we are right now. 

we don't make a living...

we're life. 

everything else is a bonus. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Robins

Robins: 

robins may seem less dramatic in appearance than cardinals and blue jays, perhaps not quite matching the bluebird in the vibrancy of color - yet they are the most frequent birds that I encounter each morning, really on any occasion I spend anytime outdoors, and it's very commonness that befriends them to me, having them always near, knowing that I can count on their companionship and song to greet me anytime I go outdoors.

and robins are one of the friendliest of birds, curious, and willing to breach the distance between themselves and humans, able to be coaxed to feeding from our hand, a rare trust for any wild creature. For me it's enough to simply have them around, to hear them as one of the earliest birdsong's of the morning, and have them hope a few steps along with me as I walk before their final leap to flight. It seems they offer me their friendship, at least briefly, and I take that offer with a smile of deep joy and appreciation. 

no friendly gesture goes without some notice.

it's been said that they are messenger birds, often seen as a visit from loved ones that have left our personal world, departed to another realm. They also symbolize new beginnings, a fresh aspect of life about to appear. So often they's synonymous with Christmas, seen on cards and many decorations, and it's with this that brings the association to the birth of hope and possibilities, that robins show us the way to unconditional love and forgiveness, essential teachings born of that Christian holiday. Of course the holiness of that day extends to pagan ritual and lore - from a shamanic perspective Robins teach us the joy of new beginnings, surrendering to what's present and to leave truly leave the past behind. 

 it seems these are birds that speak most directly to our spirit. 

ecologically, robins are essential, a natural link of predator and prey, pollinator, belonging so deeply to both earth and sky. Really, they are the complete ecosystem by design, the fabric of a healthy environment, and should be honored for their role.  

to me, they're a sign that wilderness touches my suburban world, that I'm really not so far removed from a wildness of my own and that I can belong to both realms at once, seamlessly, and in truth they're not separate worlds at all. Robins have befriended me spiritually, every morning they fly across across my path, accompanying through  their short hops of flight taken right before my steps, and in their earliest morning songs offered just outside my office window. I can hear them now, and they're calling me join them...

and with that I put my work aside,

heading out for my morning walk with robins.

~

Peace, Eric 

~

We're Wild Too

We're wild too: 

of course we're wild too, this forgotten aspect of ourselves that remains intimately linked to the environment, being less separate than we now believe. Not only are we wild, but our very bodies are a wilderness for a host of organisms, teeming with life through the habitat we provide, an ecosystem no less wondrous in design than what earth itself provides for us as home. 

the truth is that wilderness is everywhere, even in what appears to be tamed, controlled, a city street is roamed by a vast amount of insects, birds daring a sweep from a nearby tree to catch them as a meal, smallest mammals surviving mostly in the absence of our sight. We only believe that life is tame, an illusion of safety and ease, and yet we are still mostly at the mercy of every storm, dependent on earth for sustenance, the landscape to provide us a home, and air for the quality of each breath taken. At no point are we ever removed from this ecosystem, even though we feel as a separate world of our own We are intimately linked to every aspect found.

wilderness is everywhere.

and more truly we're wild too, existing mostly as microscopic particles vibrating as a field for other forms to roam. We are as much bacteria, and microbes as we are human cells. Our body is a micro-habitat for this much smaller world to thrive. We are a host, a vast wilderness for life to thrive. 

simply part of a universe of infinite design. 

to remember this, returning ourselves to wilderness...

and we're home.

~

Peace, Eric 

 

Promise of Transcendence

Promise of transcendence: 

at first I was drawn to mantra meditation by the promise of transcendence, that who I was presently would somehow be transformed to a more spiritual version of myself. I was still drinking at the time, deeply lonely after the break up of a long time relationship, in need of some sort of magic in life. Meditation was that hope, or at least a more dedicated approach as I had practiced loosely various methods for several years, but nothing as any serious endeavor. 

it was the promise of transcendence, change, that drew me to this practice. 

everything changed, completely, my entire life transformed.

and nothing changed at all. 

through the course of a few years of practice I had quit drinking, a new job that I enjoyed, my writing took a consistent streak of daily creativity, joyful, and it wasn't long until I was in a new, more fulfilling relationship. I felt healthy, emotionally so, spiritually fulfilled. 

transformed. 

until divorce, and my mother's losing battle with Alzheimer's, and that my writing was stalled in a small capacity, a limited audience appreciating what I offered. I found myself on the losing end of countless other battles, but really, it was just life, how it sometimes happens to us all. At this point I was less interested in being transformed, it was enough to simply navigate life with a certain awareness to hold to, that through my meditation practice I was witness to it all, untouched by deepest sorrow, a spiritual source of unconditional love.  

which wasn't true at all. 

just a story. 

here's what eventually happened - the promise of transcendence vanished through my practice, completely on its own, my entire story let go of, surrendered to absolutely nothing at all. It was just a practice, joyful in the thought of mantra and its path through silence, free of any expectations. There was nothing to transcend, no need of my practice other than its own sake of joy. It was there at the very beginning, but I kept insisting that my own story be told, stubbornly,  still wishing to be transformed. 

there is no promise of transcendence...

everything happens now. 

completely on its own. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Cormorant

Cormorant: 

there has been a cormorant visiting my neighborhood pond, with many sightings over the past week and my hope that it will make a home here for coming months until it's time to migrate south again. It's a new bird for me and I can't recall any other point its been mentioned locally. But here it is, at home for however long it might choose to stay. 

we first spotted the cormorant thinking it might be the green heron, which is another new visitor to the pond. It was some distance away on a spot of land towards the middle of the pond, hard to make out other than an oddness to its neck and head that made it standout from a suspected duck or possible goose. It was a photo and a bird app that helped identify the new visitor. We see it most everyday now, the gift of a most unusual looking bird, almost prehistoric in appearance, perfect in design for diving deep in their hunt for fish, navigating across the water, as well as migrating seasonally over great distance. 

these are quite intelligent birds as well, using tools for hunting, dropping insects or small rocks on the water's surface to attract fish looking for a meal. One of the few tool using birds, with crows and ravens being just as clever. Cormorants will stand on rocks or small patches of land amidst the water, wings spread to dry in the sun, majestic, completely at home in their surroundings. 

a new favorite bird to capture my attention. 

every sighting is a gift, rare birds such as the cormorant, as well as the local geese and ducks that make this pond their home year round now. Or mostly so, as it seems that some will migrate further north over the course of summer, and that they will sometimes fly a bit south if conditions warrant. But there's always a large variety of birds here, none are common to my sight, each one magical in their appearance. For me, the importance is to bring new eyes to every walk, my innocence reborn with each sighting of a robin, or blue jay, the exclamation of a cardinal against the witness of snow, and how my body responds to the call of a hawk circling far above. 

the thing is, this is my landscape, a reflection of my truest self, the intimacy of deep kinship. The cormorant reflects my uniqueness, my own efficiency of design, and how my purpose is ingerent through the vibrancy and grace of simply being alive. 

my landscape is life. 

and every walk reveals this. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Shamanic Journey

really, it's a shamanic journey, each morning walk brings to a non-ordinary reality, magical in all that I view even if once it might have seemed mundane. This actually began during the Covid-19 lock down along with some growing concern for my father's more fragile health, feeling that I should remain close to the house to frequently check in. With shorter walks confined to my neighborhood a wilderness of inches began to show and from there expand to a larger world at hand. 

a transformation of my view.

every morning is different, a new wilderness is shown, and there's another shamanic journey that transports me to a participatory view. The magic is in that transformation, it's not that I become anything other then I am, but that I lessen my hold on the ordinary reality of my regular world and embrace the morning as my own extraordinary unfolding, seamless, consciousness in the fullness of its grace and wonder. It's the way things always are - and yet I had never really seen it this way before, or at least seldom, and now it's the common transformation of my morning.

 and never less than magical. 

everything shines with energy, life-force, an essence that expands to reach me in reflection - I am exactly what I view now, and that's the shamanic journey in full. From every blade of grass and the insects that crawl between them, with each tree and its seamless reach of branch to air and roots spread deep beneath me, streams and pond, animals in tentative steps of  morning exploration - this what I am, all of it, an inclusive view through a singular witness. 

it's just life happening, participatory...

and I find myself included.

sort of, the truth is that I've disappeared within the view, no longer a seer, but just the scenery now, consciousness in awareness of itself through the variety of its display. Of course words fail in this description, and that I write this from an office that seems shielded from the larger world. Yet even here there's a hint of that largeness, a seamless quality remains through the words that now appear. There will be another shamanic journey...

a new morning awaits to greet me. 

~

Peace, Eric

 

My Opinion

My opinion: 

as my life grows quieter, deepening in appreciation for the qualities found through silence, it seems now that my opinion matters less to me, and that I am not prone to offer it in conversations any longer. What I recognize is that my views on certain matters has little value to others and not even much to me. They're just thoughts given the weight of my convictions, beliefs not yet questioned of their worth, and they don't need to be voiced with every opportunity on social media or in person. 

and even I don't give them much consideration...

and with this my quiet life grows deeper. 

it's an odd topic to write of, as it seems that right now I'm offering an opinion, and in a way I guess I am, but I'm always comfortable writing paradox, and find that there's subtle difference between sharing insights in the quiet boundaries of my blog, and offering my opinion in a forceful, uninvited manner. Or at least so I hope. This isn't to say that opinions don't matter, as they certainly do and they're a valuable means of communication. It's only that we often often lose sight of their self-importance, that they belong to us alone and not everyone will share our own enthusiasm, or appreciate a certain point of view. This is especially prevalent on social media, a topic appears that grabs our interest and we are quick to let others know what's true. We give our opinion and then seemed shocked that it might not be completely shared by others. Arguments begin, and the conversation quickly turns to a debate and squabble. Maybe there's value in this? I'm not sure, but it no longer seems worth the energy of participation. 

of course this is only my opinion.

for whatever it's worth. 

but here's the thing, what most our offering is an insight that has value to that person, it's been course altering to them, perhaps an important spiritual, emotional, or psychological breakthrough. It's been offered in love, maybe misguided, yet still given in the hope that we'll share the importance of their view. And sometimes we do. Not always though, as it seems our own insights have a precedence in value, that our opinion matters more than theirs. 

and more arguments follow. 

my opinion, and honestly not even mine, it has too much weight of information, no longer an insight of personal meaning to be quietly shared, but a forceful explanation of how I believe a certain thing to should be. I see no reason for this to be shared, it's not an energy I wish to offer others, or too hold to even for myself. I sit with it, allowing it's presence, questioning if it's true, and then watch as all I've personally invested in it seems to vanish in my mind. As my life grows quieter now, deepening in appreciate of it's silence, not every thought is weighted with the importance of meaning. 

they're just thoughts. 

wandering through the spacious nature of my mind. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Quietly Awakening

Quietly awakening: 

quietly awakening, that's how life seems to me, that I'm aware, and everything belongs just as it is right now, perfect in its way, even if I don't fully understand why this is so. There's little need for me to control how life unfolds, not that I ever could, but there was always a strong desire to make things happen in way that fit my every demand - and of course I was mostly unsuccessful in this regard. What I see now is that life doesn't really have an agenda, not personally at least, and that even free will is a spontaneous appearance and will only carry me so far. 

there is no real choice in this awakening. 

life simply happens on its own.

this isn't a cause to debate free will, or if we capable of any amount of control through life. It certainly seems we are, choices are made and then life unfolds in the direction that we hope for. Yet ultimately, the basis of our choice is a mystery, there is no real reason that we desire what we do. It's just how things are, ideas spontaneously appearing, and then we claim the inspiration as our own. 

for me, quietly awakening, it's being aware that this is so.

and allowing life to simply, easily, 

unfold. 

complete on its own.

it's probably different for you, a large part of my surrender is less need to even form a view on matters such as these, what might be consider spiritual issues, or the qualities of awakening. The wish to argue seldom ever appears, but it might, life shows itself through mystery and everything remains a sudden possibility. For now, life is pretty quiet, edges soft, and I find myself fully immersed within a continuous flow of inspiration, urging for expression. 

and this is what I write of...

quietly awakening. 

~

Peace, Eric 

A Sure and Certain Grace

A sure and certain grace: 

there's a sure and certain grace to turtles, perhaps not evident in a glance and quick consideration, but it's seen in their deliberate pace, how they're determined to reach their destination no matter how far or however long takes. I mostly catch sight of them on my later morning walks, warmer then, and they find that perfect spot of sun as it hits the pond, resting on whatever rock or broken off tree branch that offers a temporary shore for their basking in this light. It really seems a moment of deep meditation, absorbed in sunlight, their necks extended to reach every bit of warmth, and a stillness that seems to reach outwards, giving a pause to my quicker pace around the pond, my heart rate immediately slowed in appreciation for my own moment of warmth and sunlight and the grace these turtles offer. 

turtles are famously a long lived species, with different age spans for each type, but it's generally true that they will live for decades barring accident or other issues that happen in the wild. And turtles are wild, essential to the ecosystem where they're found, and they're deliberate pace often causing us to view them as objects to pick up, posing with them for a quick photo, or even taking them home for pets. Turtles belong exactly where they are, and with the exception of moving them from danger, are best appreciated where they're found. 

to even write of turtles slows my own pace of thoughts and typing, I find myself more deliberate with the words I choose, more time spent in the length of every pause, restful in the moment. That's what turtles teach me, how to live my life through the natural pace it offers, pausing for those points of magic found in warmth and sunlight, and that I have my own sure and certain grace. 

turtles show me the true and fine art of deliberation, not lost in thought or devoid of action, but purposeful to each moment, attuned to what it offers and matching my response. Perhaps it's this artful deliberation that causes such long life, or maybe the years themselves are less important than the qualities that our moments offer, the experience of simply being aware and appreciative that it's so. 

there is a sure and certain grace to turtles...

and through this I find my reflection offered in return.

~

Peace, Eric 

Heron

Heron: 

there's a Great blue heron that visits my neighborhood pond every so often, and sometimes I'll catch a glimpse of it in nearby creeks as I'm walking on the paths. It's always a magnificent sight, such a graceful bird, especially in flight as its large body seems at once to defy, as well as belong, completely to the air. The heron is a nice addition to the geese and ducks that populate the pond, and of course the smaller birds that skirt the shore for the abundance of insects, especially a feast in these warmer months now. Most recently there have been sightings of a more rare Green heron, rare for this pond at least as I've not sighted them before this year. Such an interesting appearing bird, hardly even looking like a heron at all until there's a reason for its neck to stretch long away from its body, a sudden grace of length and purpose. It's then for certain that I realize it's heron. 

I've recently discovered that Green herons are tool using birds, highly intelligent, dropping caught insects on top of water to attract fish to the surface for easier hunting. Unlike the geese and ducks that now seem to make this pond home year round, herons still migrate, and it amazes me to consider that my visiting birds are recently arrived from the Gulf coast or the Caribbean, all the way here to my neighborhood, passing by so many other opportunities, but making this spot their seasonal home. 

I hold their visit as a gift, a sign that here too, this exact and present moment of my home...has everything I most truly need. 

Native American lore holds that herons are a sign of good fortune, as well as patience and peacefulness, that there are opportunities here for hunting and safety, a home before it's time to migrate and escape the growing cold. Yes, it's a blessing to see these birds, a gift, and I delight in their sighting. They serve as a reminder of my own qualities that serve me so well, that I too hold a certain grace and peaceful presence, an ability to be patient in my daily affairs. Herons are my spirit guide, invoking what's already present within me to appear as needed to my life. 

indeed, they're a good fortune to be seen. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Rabbits

it's pretty much every morning that I see rabbits in my neighborhood, usually right on the edge of a grassy lot and the presence of woods nearby for a quick place to hide. There are foxes present too, hawks as well, and maybe predators unknown to me, so it pays to be in the right location, not quiet out in the wide open but having options to either flee or hide. There have been years that I never see a rabbit, perhaps they escape my attention, I'm usually pretty sharp in spotting wildlife though, one of the purposes of my early walks is to allow myself this time in nature, mindful, being present to all that might show itself to me. I'm blessed to live in a neighborhood that has quite the diversity of birds and other wildlife, and even a common sighting of any still thrills me deeply. 

so I'm always on the lookout for rabbits. 

there's many answers as to why I'm seeing more this year, and all of them are intricately related, a web of infinite design that stretches past this present year alone. That's how nature works, cycles of abundance and seasons of scarcity, and yet always balancing in a delicate display of life. Right now is the time for rabbits to flourish, whatever the reason, and I delight in their morning company, every sighting is an opportunity to smile in appreciation to these amazing creatures. 

of course with more rabbits now they're often seen as pest, intruders on neighborhood lawns and destructive to their gardens. What's forgotten is that they are essential to the ecosystem, and yes, they will eat what's found in gardens, but many weeds as well and their waste product acts as fertilizer to the soil, nourishing to the plants we most value. Again, it's a balance, or really, balancing, life is always flowing to opportunities for its continuation and we belong to this process as well. We are the ecosystem, every bit as much as rabbits, and only our insistence to having things a certain way keeps us from finding ourselves in this balancing display of life. 

I'm not a gardener, nor do I place any value on my lawn, rabbits are free to roam my yard. Yet I do understand the frustration of my neighbors, their time and effort spent on their creation. I admire their commitment. The lawns I truly love are those dedicated to biodiversity, pollinator gardens, areas that leave themselves open to the ways of nature. Those are the Taoist, gardeners of intent to live within the balancing equation of life. They find a way to live with rabbits, offering no harm, knowing that everything belongs within this balance. 

for me, I just find myself happy in their sightings. Rabbits are wildlife, creatures of curiosity and wonder, and they seem to draw my soul towards its own wild existence. They remind me of my true and only world is nature, an ecosystem of intricate display and that I'm simply another  strand within its infinite web, essential, yet part of it's delicate balancing act as well. 

that I'm always, only...

an essential point in the vast display of nature. 

~

Peace Eric 

Without Perimeter

Without perimeter: 

without perimeter, no lines at all, clarity by our very nature - that's the end result of seeing, of looking towards the source which seems to hold the view and finding only the absence of a seer as well as the entirety of the world being born within the moment of our looking. It's an impersonal view, yet intimate too, this is where paradox seeks comfort in being understood. Everything belongs here, it's impossible for anything to be shoved aside as there are no true borders to hold against intrusion. 

our view is always inclusive. 

as Douglas Harding claims, we are our own authority here, sole observers to what's found and that which isn't seen at all, headless by our very own witness. We are without perimeter, seamless, and our descriptions fail when we seek to offer explanation. The truth is, this cannot be explained, not really, as reality offers only the experience of being and words seem to imply a secondary structure where none exists at all. Yet there is joy in this attempt, and that's the necessity of art, not to inform others of what's been witnessed in our interior world, but to insist from our own point of authority that there is no separate world, just labels of exclusion, faint descriptions that only hint of the reality of our view. 

art provides an urge for searching on our own. 

no one else can lay claim to what's found, there is no authority greater than our own. Other's may seek to fill this spaciousness with their description, offering insights that proved useful with their own encounter of reality, but are still secondary tales of what they found. I like to think of myself as a continuous seeker, one who looks freshly for the divine in any given moment. It's always different, ever changing in beauty and through the curiosity of my wonder, and yet it stays exactly as every previous encounter, without perimeter, seamless, only my intimacy forgotten and now reclaimed once more. That's the value of looking, a simple reminder, exploring the world again through the freshness of the view. 

without perimeter...

an authority of our own. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Burpees

Burpees: 

so the main thrust of my workout lately, for over a year now, has been burpees, two different versions of this exercise that I alternate daily, every day, for high repetitions. For those unfamiliar, the burpee is a complex movement that takes one from the upright position to prone with a pushup thrown in before leaping back to the feet in a smooth but explosive manner. It's a full body expression of grace and power, or at least to the extent that those qualities are present to the day. What I do is generally considered "prison" or "military style" burpees, which generally means extremely high repetitions, staying in relatively the same stance throughout - holding myself accountable to an unbroken chain of motion for the length of time or number of repetitions that I've committed myself to. 

it's a demanding workout, every version, and one I greatly enjoy. 

in many ways it's the opposite of my love affair with yoga, a counter point to the supple stretch and surrender to the flow of poses. But what I find in essence though, more similar than imagined, is that all motion is just a display of energy, everything is yoga, the union of body and mind and how it's a divine and joyful expression of the whole. 

burpees are yoga, 

really, in this commitment, it's little different than the Sufi's whirling, a Dervishes practice of abandoning ourselves to the purity of motion, completely to to the point that unions found. This is meditation, mindfulness of each position, giving no time to distractions that seek to gain our focus, attention turned towards breath, aspects of the movement as it flows in union to the next, and every pause a brief moment to listen to the body's response before another rep begins. 

not every session.

sometimes it's just a workout. 

but there's always that possibility, if I'm able to listen to soul and body, giving myself completely to the movement without worry of time or repetition...

I find myself in a Dervish's whirl of motion.

~

Peace, Eric 

Garudasana

Garudasana:

garudasana, eagle pose, this is the asnana that brings me the most challenge right now, a mixture of balance, strength and flexibility in a single standing posture. This isn't a pose that I commit to in the same way as standing bow, where the fall becomes the edge to my commitment, taking it just to point of tempting gravity with my devotion to its hold. No, garudasana is different all together, it requires a mindfulness of parts before I sense its flow, that right before I reach the seamless expression of its completion - I must first devote myself to every aspect of this post. 

garudasana is a journey.

every time I seek to hold this pose.

physically there is a high demand for strength involved, flexibility through the hips as well as upper body, and balance at every point. To complete the pose with any degree of satisfaction every aspect must be met in order, no part ignored for even a moment, a mindfulness that holds it all together. I love this pose for its demands, how I am asked to commit to each part before I'm able to even imagine its completion, trusting that there is a seamless connection here that exist through every aspect, and my that my faith will result in full expression of the pose. 

it's called eagles pose, translated from Sanskrit, yet in yoga traditions it more related to a mythological creature, king of birds that caries Lord Vishnu through the air without need of ever landing. This bird knows the secret of the winds, carried by currents that require little effort from its powerful wings, having faith in the unseen forces of the air. 

that's what I commit to...

faith, 

that the currents of this pose will flow together, each aspect carrying me towards the full expression of its completion. Sometimes it seems that I miss the entirety of life  through my involvement with each aspect, committed to parts and forgetting the currents of faith that flow beneath me, with reality already being a seamless whole, every point an aspect of its expression. 

garudasana, eagle pose, mythical in flight...

reminds me that I'm whole.

~

Peace, Eric 

Magical Thinking

Magical thinking: 

it's magical thinking too, perhaps more so, that consciousness emerges from specific ingredients of matter that produce a chemical reaction, an energetic activity that is exclusive to the brain, and the cause of our awareness. To believe that consciousness is based upon physical means is as magical as any other theory proposed. I'm not saying that it's wrong, nor am I offering a more panpsychism view, although that is the direction I tend to lean towards in my belief. What I offer here is mystery, alchemy, however consciousness appears is magical...

and no less so that it might be dependent on matter, ingredients created from the Big Bang, elements that must be arranged in such precise manner as to produce the awareness that we're alive, existing within an infinite universe of possibilities and that somehow we defied the odds of being here at all. We're creatures of magic however we appeared. 

magical thinking indeed.

science often overlooks motive, not being really concerned with reasons, nor asking questions beyond how something has occurred. Science doesn't really deal with why things happen as they do. That seems more in the realm of philosophy, theology, or the curiosity of a child. Maybe there's just too much regression in asking why, with every answer being traced back further with another question and we are left once more with mystery. That's actually fine with me, everything left wide open, not knowing, and more so - being left without the need to know an absolute why of our existence. 

anything we say is just a theory after all, not the true Tao as the ancient sages urge us to remember. We should keep asking why for the very sake of this regression, each question a returning point to mystery, and it's here that we ultimately exist. Not knowing. Adrift amidst possibilities. Magical. 

indeed. 

~

Peace, Eric  

Everything Belongs

Everything belongs: 

that everything belongs, and all without exceptions - of course the mind immediately rebels at this suggestion, as surely such atrocious acts as murder and warfare, mistreatment of others, along with a host of serious concerns that plague our world, surely they don't belong here? Yet they do, sadly so in my opinion, and I have a deep desire to see these conditions change. That I care belongs as well, compassion is part of this, empathy, and every action that I take to alleviate the pain of others, everything belongs, at least for the moment of its appearance. 

this is hard to accept at first hearing, or even for a longer time after, as there is a wish for exceptions, a denial that what a moment holds could possibly be so painful, or filled by such misery or sorrow. There's  a refusal to believe this and we often look away or pretend that life is blissful at its very essence. But the truth is that life contains every possibility, suffering is included with the bliss, and we are blessed with awareness of this, an innate ability to hold our suffering in the same hands that we extend to others for their aid and comfort. Through this awareness, all things come to be accepted as they are right now, even our wish for things to change, even our denial...

everything belongs.

without exception.

and this is by virtue of appearance, it's that simple, what appears is reality, and this includes our deeply held illusions, the ghost of memories, and most fragile of beliefs. It's reality until we're able to see with clarity that life is motion, ever changing, and that what appears now is not ultimately how things will always be. Everything belongs because life is always changing, presently in motion, and every possibility at once in play. With this insight we gift the world with action, spontaneous, without choice, but simply the path our heart has taken. 

compassion, care. 

reality. 

everything belongs/ 

~

Peace, Eric 

An Entirely Selfish Act

An entirely selfish act: 

often, I'll write about my purpose here, this blog, and in particular any piece of work I happen to be writing - and my assurance is that there is no point aside from the actual writing, that I'm not offering anything of great importance nor insights that are greater than your own. Really, an insight just provides a theme to write of, giving me an idea to carry forward with words that only have meaning in the moment of my writing. This is all for me, an entirely selfish act of my commitment. 

I write for sake of inspiration, for the hope that a string of words might appear and lend themselves to beauty. An insight is just a starting point, nothing more, and certainly not offered as a teaching. The truth is that everything I write is fabricated, pure imagination, fiction. What seems like such a meaningful idea in the moment of its arrival has already vanished in importance by the time my fingers reach the keyboards. The idea is gone, inspirational already taken another turn, and I am typing something completely different, contradicting whatever thought I held before. 

for me, writing is an entirely selfish act.

my commitment is in the faith that somewhere on a page...a few words might bring a sense of beauty, a lyrical rhythm when read aloud. I've been asked before about sharing, if this is an entirely selfish act than why do I share my words? As if I have to provide an answer, or justify reasons that art is ever shared. It just is, it doesn't feel complete until the words are given away, put forth for someone to see even with a brief glance, and that my commitment is complete only when it's shared. 

that's the best I have for an explanation. 

and it's not really true, partially so, mostly, I have no idea why any of this happens, writing or why it's shared after. It's mystery, all of it, from first point of inspiration to the rush of words that follow, and any reason that they're shared - none of this can be explained, it's not meant to be, it's an entirely selfish act that brings me utter joy. 

the explanation is always just the writing. 

and it's for myself alone.

~

Peace, Eric 

Absence of A Forgiver

Absence of a forgiver: 

it's through the absence of a forgiver that the grace of forgiveness actually happens, there is no one able to cause this action, and it's not an act that we bestow upon another. The truth is that forgiveness is instantaneous, life already in the motion of being healed, and only the mind hangs on for words to be spoken and rituals performed. We lag behind this action, believing ourselves capable of holding back the course of time - yet forgiveness itself has happened. 

life instantly being healed...

motion. 

and no rituals performed. 

all in the absence of an actual forgiver. 

of course we might need those rituals, or for words to be spoken to confirm our being healed. At least we might believe that's so - and with this we come to see ourselves as the one who offers forgiveness, taking on the all important role of bringing grace to a wounded situation. We see ourselves as a forgiver, a larger role of being the one to move past hurtful conditions and offering this grace to others. But again, the reality is that it's over, only our thoughts continue to be wounded, and there are no words that need to be spoken. Grace happens on its own. Forgiveness too. Our only role is to come to terms with motion, to remember that life is the healing factor here, always, and doesn't need our confirmation. 

life heals itself.

always. 

and all through the absence of a forgiver.

~

Peace, Eric 

From Quiet Depths

From quiet depths: 

it's the morning itself that inspires, hours before sunrise, a deep is hush present, holy, and any sound that seeps through has a seamless feel to it - as if brought forth from quiet depths and offered as a single note within an infinite song. I am called to listen, waking early for just this purpose, simply to sit within these quiet depths and hear my own inspired song of mantra, breath and heartbeat. 

this too has a seamless feel.

I am often asked what meditation offers, to list the benefits and answer if it's worth the effort. Many friends will tell me that they've tried and failed with their own practice, distracted by their thoughts or inability to focus. There are a few awakening friends who urge me to surrender my practice and just allow my own conscious expression to emerge. But here's the thing - it takes no effort to sit in silence, my focus is free of concern, unhindered by any idea or object. I have no interest in being enlightened, or awakening to anything outside this single point of inspiration. 

listening, from quiet depths...

and the entire world is heard. 

what more could my morning offer? 

so it's enough for me, sitting, listening, not interrupting the softness of these early hours with any demands or expectations. I am not a seeker through effort nor by practice, from quiet depths I've found what's ever present, inescapable, intimate to the very moment of my listening.  

I hear my own awakening...

playing as a present song. 

~

Peace, Eric