A Current Found Aware

 

A current found aware:

To find myself let go, that I belong as motion in a swift world of constant change, and that each instant I am somewhat and somehow another version of the self I was just a moment now gone. This is the only rebirth that I know of, lasting less than a breath taken, a subtle becoming in the same time as a self that's left behind. To be let go is to find myself immersed in the reality of life, a current found aware of its place within the stream. 

This is not an act of surrender, nor a complete release of a self I hold dear - it's the realization that there is simply nothing here to let go of, that I am already surrendered in each and every moment, and remake myself only as an image that's imagined from before. My reality is motion. To surrender as this would as a river in belief that it belongs as a static hold to every stone and not the truth of its ever present caress. Life carries on as such. So already I'm let go. 

For me, this is seen as a promise of being, to be constant and swift as the world itself - I am never not becoming something, even as my last cherished self is left behind. To lose myself in belief that I am just as motionless as the riverbed stone, is to forget the reality that I am fully involved as life's caress. Even the stone is found changing, worn to a polished point of its own letting go, a realization that nothing stays forever. 

To find myself let go is to remember that I am a current without true riverbed, just motion that lends itself as form and still stays swift and sure. There is nothing to hold to, and already surrendered - life continues in its flow. 

Peace, Eric 

I Will Be Written

 I will be written:

it's not a reach for inspiration, nor the end result of petitions to some far off muse - I find myself inspired through a deep participation in life. This is opening to each moment in an honest manner, without demands for any expectations of a certain meaning, that what's to be expressed is always, always present. My role is patient listening, it's seeing without intent, more than anything it's just allowing myself to relax as the creative process itself. I will be written. 

this isn't something that comes to me, inspiration doesn't arrive in whispered words for my ears alone. It's present moment reality simply wishing to be told. It's already here, an inspired moment creating itself anew from the very instant left behind, life in continuous expression. Still, this obviousness is often easy to overlook, to find myself searching for a grand gesture and only miss the subtle story that even now unfolds. For me, to be written, means that I need to recognize myself as the story as well as the one who wishes to arrange these words. I am the expression, in process, inspired by this recognition. 

so I say I will be written too - that every word here is my own experience of being, that I am an aspect of life already inspired by virtue of being alive. There's nothing at all to reach for, this moment is enough for infinite stories to be told. 

this is only one. 

Peace, Eric 

Found To Be Seamless

 

Found to be Seamless:

so it's found to be seamless, life, at least in my own observation, and even my experience through each moment reveals no break from moments just before. It's just motion, and what seems to be stillness isn't separate from it all, it's not a different event giving pause before proceeding. This is how life happens, more of a shifting of attention and arrangement of the senses - things become in subtle and often sudden fashion, events occur that take me by surprise. It's a seamless allowing. 

in this sense I find myself without questions for so much that appears, my reactions to life are equal in their belonging as everything else. Nothing is denied by single virtue of its presence. This most certainly includes my own denial of it being so. I have no reaction nor opinion more spiritual than the next - I only have this present moment and its seamless hold of all that happens. 

and too, there is no denial of a self, that seeing the illusion of a solid, unchanging sense of being doesn't negate the seriousness of its concerns. Compassion too is seamless, and to find myself navigating a sometimes troubled world is no time to deny the existence of either. What appears is real if only for the time that it's believed in. For this I offer self-care, to others as well who come seamless to this believing. No one is seen as not belonging. My own self included. 

so it's a seamless world - and the gift this offers is acceptance, relaxing to events beyond control, responding to circumstances in the best sense available. In short, simply living, but now aware that it all belongs. Everything. 

~

Peace, Eric 

My Freedom

 My Freedom:

I am free, right now, naturally and without effort - at no point was this attained or earned as an achievement. It's what I am, what we are all, and this is simply because life itself is motion unattached to outcome, a flow of events that measure its success in anything other than its continuation. Of course I am given to thoughts that bind me to circumstance, to people, and to my own sense of who I am and where I belong in the world. But life continues without these cares, always a present moment of possibilities, and there is nowhere else I find myself then here, an aspect of life and not separate from its flow. 

That's my freedom, to be alive, and to somehow be aware of this motion, nothing that isn't always happening each moment on its own. I am gifted each instant with a seamless grace that presents me this unique position of being, that there is a fresh opportunity of life in new current, a never before, nor once again - now. My freedom is simply acceptance of the moment. 

To this - I bring attention to gratitude. All this is unearned, again it's a grace that finds me without search, and what I offer in return is my thankful participation. My example is writing, that these thoughts appear along with a keen desire to put them into form. There was no choice in this matter, I have no authority in what life offers in these moments. But I find myself here, immersed in listening to thoughts that only seem my own, grateful for the inspiration. So I write. My freedom is that this all continues, life goes on beyond this moment and carries me along. I'll find myself grateful for its next event, another opportunity to participate in something completely other than these words. I am free because I'm alive, motion, and aware. 

~

Peace, Eric 

A Promise of Grace

 

But there's a promise of grace:

nothing certain is promised, not that I have found, and this seems to be the underlying energy to seek a religion of permanence, to shore up the foundation of uncertainty that life is based upon. It's a false hope. But there is a promise of grace, and I choose this word purposely over peace, for even deep peace is a condition to be disturbed, having an opposite in a sense of chaos. Grace is the acceptance of all, each condition given the time of it's appearance, unconditional in its hold. It's a true foundation.

This isn't something to be earned or even freely given. It simply is. Life is the grace of motion, seamless and swift through constant change. It's only when I sit still for a bit, quiet, patient and without demand to see things a certain way, that I witness how subtle the world changes each moment, so often missed in my daily routine. Here, I even witness my own sense of peace disturbed in its calm, a slight sound of passing cars gives cause to my attention. There is a quick return to peaceful listening, almost instant after years of practiced sitting. Grace is that return. 

It's that life will always bring something that doesn't seem to belong, at least right now, not in this one moment where my deepest wish is calm. It's easy be peaceful when my faith is certain. But that's not life, it's the illusion of control, a hope to overcome the circumstance of present moments. Life is this, right now, and whatever's found. Grace is this acceptance. 

This isn't a practice, and there's no effort given - it's also not calmly abiding within life's storms. It's simply being alive, knowing that storms belong in their own way and time and that my participation, in someway at least, is required in life's action. I am part of the dynamics of it all. No matter what happens, whatever life delivers next, it always belongs and so does my reaction. I'm never certain of what that may be - yet there is always grace, no matter what's found. 

~

Peace, Eric 

My Inquiry Is

 

My inquiry is:

my inquiry is now is simply curiosity, not even posed as a question, but just an allowing of each moment to unfold on it's own, and my own watchful nature joined to see what happens. This is to be knowingly aware, without effort to make it anything other than itself, no mystical advancement of a higher power - it's being myself, relaxed, curious as to what life delivers next. 

to inquire is an investigation and I am less interested in questions of why something has happened, or how an object came to be. My inquiry is in seeing motion, of change from a moment that seems one thing to its subtle shift of a something other, a slight becoming of a new moment altogether. This is, for me, is to be aware of space as much as objects, of seeing how expansive life is, always allowing one more thing within its hold, it's symmetry of arrangement.  To this, I note my own belonging, of how I come to appear in both thought and body, seamless, one more object to be aware of, and this too seems to flow in a curious manner of it's own. Somehow, I just came to be - and life continued with my inclusion. 

of course this is only my observation of right now, an experience of allowing and seeing what appears, of how the moment changes, and if anything at all remains the same. No great truth is reveled and non was sought. It's really much simpler than told above - I am aware, and life is always changing in subtle and sometimes bold ways. I am part of all that happens in the scope of this awareness. For now, it's the ease of early morning to its middle part, sounds of the day becoming more apparent, and the need to bring this writing to a close. 

And there it is - life. 

~

Peace, Eric 

My Own Understanding

 

As for my own understanding:

my own understanding, seeing, hasn't freed from me from anything, at least not the things of life that have caused me to suffer. I am not enlightened. If anything, some wounds are felt more deeply, intimate in a sense of their belonging, with no rush to mask or send away. I sit with emotional pain as a friend would keep company to any loved who's in need, seeing myself as my own best comfort - if not free from an entangled life, than I am at least my own beloved. 

in this same understanding I hope to have more to offer others - to be able to hold each encounter in a spacious allowing that frees us both the from demands of any expectations. This too, includes my slights and failings. I offer wholeness, my complete imperfections without need of being healed. I ask nothing in return but my own sake of recognition, that in each moment we bring only what we're able, and that we're both fragile, in a wish to be truly heard. To see this to be in a dialog of tenderness, unspoken in all but our acceptance. 

Life, so it seems to me, doesn't offer freedom from itself - only motion, and my own belonging to the current of this moment. Seeing this, is to be free as life's expression, that right now is only how it could possibly be until the current brings to be another moment. My own understanding hasn't freed from anything - but has left me free within life's motion.

Peace, Eric 

Heart Sutra of Creativity

 

My own Heart Sutra of Creativity:

this is my own creative process - that I am the same energy that brings the world to form, as much immaterial as I am a solid person with a desire to write down words. I am emptiness matched to page and with the very same wish to bring fulfillment by thought and word, my own heart sutra of creativity. This is just a shift of energy, nothing lost in transfer of subtle ideas that eventual my fingers, even now typing through this singular expression. It's inspiration in process of becoming. 

My own process, or really, not mine at all -it's a continuous happening, everything is constantly in flux, a creative non-state of becoming something new while shedding only what no longer serves the present moment. My role is to simply recognize myself as belonging to this flow, no more stationary as the ideas that somehow find me. Writing is motion, and too it's not separate from the pause that serves through inspiration. It's process only, never static in giving, and what's received isn't meant to be anything other than transformation, ideas to words and back again as something other than before. 

I am process - this moment writing, listening, waiting. It's one thing, creativity in quest to shape words on a page, to wish a flowers bloom and urge an autumn lead to fall. There's no separate inspiration for each of these actions, it's life in full creative play. This is my belonging, ours, becoming from thoughts and ideas to form, and shifting still in every moment, from bloom to fall. Life - in process. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Uninterrupted Through It All

 

not interrupted, that I see myself more as seamless, and to not to say that there is one thing only as the world. From what I experience, in this moment alone, there is a flow of events that seem undivided - listening, I find myself aware of a bird giving note outside my window, another joins in song, and then a pause to silence. It's right there, no need to wait for it's arrival, silence remained throughout the song, uninterrupted and allowing in its grace. 

My view as well is not interrupted by form, objects appear without objection by the emptiness of their hold. Through my own eyes I belong equal to the landscape. I'm no more surprised to find myself aware of my body than any other object found, each appearing in the same space that allows it all to be. The world doesn't come in parts - a tree is rooted from earth all the way to sky and its furthest leaf gives rain and light to the ground. Through this, under the same sun light and rain that's given, I receive the world uninterrupted by any sense of distance. 

Do I call this oneness? Unity? Or seamless grace? Sometimes. But mostly I don't call it anything at all. It's enough to be uninterrupted in my belonging, leaving the experience to simply be whatever it is, resting here without concern for any label or desire to make it anything other than the simplicity of what's occurring. Whatever next appears, whatever happens, the world remains uninterrupted through it all, seamless so it seems. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Just Being Aware

 

It's just being aware:

there's little enough to say - my true insights seem to last only for the moment that their given, a flash of recognition not of any eternal wisdom but of how little I really know. Nothing actually. Yet this has come to be a gift, perhaps the only insight needed. This moment doesn't tell me anything other than what can be covered in its length of visit, of my experience now, and then somehow it continues to every following moment. There's nothing lasting in it all except that I'm aware and that now is always present. I refuse to make a story of this, to organize a self-religion of my own worship of the moment. It's just being aware - and knowing that I am. 

But this has come to be enough - an infinite world of description opens to the moment, my experience of whatever's happening now shifting along with the circumstances of nature, a seamless relationship of recognition and change. It's the mystical aspect of the ordinary and would be impossible for me to become bored in the details that are give. I could write for my entire life and still be only on the surface of the moment, noting the obvious, while the mystery of the present continues unfolding, offering another lifetime worth of exploration and reporting. 

It seems there was more to be said after all - perhaps not true insights, but a little bit of reality revealed through observation. Beyond this, any thought that something lasting has been captured, I am at a loss to say. I'm just aware of what's given to this moment. 

~

Peace, Eric 

The Language of Things

 

The language of things:

it's the language of things, words spoken to give a sense of understanding, defining existence into manageable landmarks for easy navigation. I speak of things to give them a certain reality in my imagination, a flower gains an entire story with a single word. Yet I also think of what is lost, of how a story comes to define the limits to what a flower truly holds. My life now is about seeing things in two ways and both have a shared truth within my view. 

This is the language of seeing - finding space in equal value to the things it holds, of how it lends itself to give description to the curve of every object it encounters. There is no easy way to talk of the value of emptiness, and perhaps words themselves are the best measure, how they emerge from silence in a seamless way and only give meaning through pause, allowing silence once more to hold true. There is never really any parting of the two, my words here are not separate from the page, and once told aloud they still retain silence as their source. 

The language of things owes its meaning to a silence that allows. 

To speak again of the flower - I see it too in a shared capacity of space giving form, each petal given its distinction by the emptiness found between them. A flower is emptiness bloomed. Language mostly fails in the stories it tells, a fiction of truth it seems. I have no wish to deny any aspect of the world, to imagine that I live in a realm where silence rules, and form is an illusion. Even as I find this so on deeper understanding - I live in a mostly solid world of things. Language reflects this. But it's not the whole story, and the world is not made completely solid. What I see can't always words to fit description, I write in the langue of things after all. Yet always, always, it's emptiness that allows their meaning. That's the whole story. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Privilege of Being Aware

 

The privilege of being aware:

that I am aware, and privileged by this knowledge - from this point every cosmic question is a guessing game, the source of this awareness, my origin as a being, and my eventual ending as this form, all questions that fall outside this privilege of being aware. I just don't know, and my curiosity now belongs mostly to the moment - my inquiry isn't to gain knowledge but to explore the depth of my capacity to hold the world, how one more thing always seems to find a place in this unfolding, life in infinite expansion and my own seamless grace to flow along. 

Indeed, this is a privilege. 

There are questions, of course. I sometimes find myself asking why have we gained this privilege to be aware, to what ends are we blessed by this gift of seeing and knowing that we see? But I don't expect answers, and the questions themselves always lead to deep appreciation. 

I am grateful to be aware. 

This truly is a gift. It's the rich fabric of being alive - of how the view is more than simply objects appearing but my own landscape of existence in a spread of possibilities. This is being aware of silence being played in a vibration of sound, one thing singing of itself, and that I am somehow joined in audience and participation. It's my touch in continuation, no longer given strict perimeters of what's found beneath fingers or brushed against me, but now finding that every experience is a touch in someway, intimate, and a way to truly sense the world. 

 That I am - is to be aware. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

What I Am

 

What I am - is experienced. Or perhaps it's better said that I am experiencing myself each moment through thoughts and sensations, my body known by its contact to the world, and my mind by its translation of what occurs. There is no set and settled me that is witness to it all, each moment is found fluid, a new experience of self to now be noted - and yet there's no one there to note what happens, just the experience giving the illusion of a solid understanding. To say illusion gives the sense of not being real, but reality itself seems to be a blend of mystery and known, form and formless at once, and there is no point apart to what seems to be two. What I am is real - yet not entirely so. I accept the paradox. 

Each moment something is occurring. I am experiencing whatever is happening now on many deep and subtle levels. As well there is the surface of this event and it is just as mysterious as depth of this experience. My conscious mind notes this flow of words, registers birds in song outside the window, and gives pause for new words to find me. I am able to turn my attention to each event individually as they occur but never once truly divide them. The experience itself is whole, ongoing, and it all happens without cause or effort on my part, an action in the same moment of its observation as far as I can tell. Of course this mystery plays deeper, events that have me gathered from infinite particles that could easily have been something other. Somehow too this is experienced as me. 

So all I'm able to truly say about myself is that I am experiencing, that I am an event in constant occurrence, and this is later noted as to what I call myself. 

What I am - is now. 

Peace, Eric 

Because It Is

The only answer given - because it is: 

because it is - and this arrives as only cause, my one theory of how my world has come to be. Through no action of my own I find the world complete each moment, my every function cared for by a force beyond my conscious control. My life happens. The philosophic question is why? Why does the world exist? Why is there life at all?  There's an answer from every school of thought, each varied by beliefs, and only true to those believers. Science gives me the how of it all, details, a cosmic bang leading to this moment. I find myself humbled that this infinite expansion of energy has arrived to this point of my existence, that I am traced from this cosmic dust and now find myself here to ask these questions. 

and yet...

it no longer seems to matter why, my seeking for answers has settled into a peaceful acceptance that I belong to every moment. The world is, life is, and this is the simplicity of my belonging. My every question is an inquiry in acceptance, each question of why turns softly to the unanswerable now of existence - because it is. 

with this comes a sense of awe at the spontaneous nature of life, how things arrive from wherever they found themselves before, appearing now for the benefit of my being, or perhaps simply the joy of being noted, or maybe even no particular reason at all. The only constant is that I am aware of what arrives in very same moment of not knowing how it all appears. It is, now, and that's the only answer life will truly offer. It seems enough for me, 

~
Peace,

Eric

Just What Is

here's just what is - and the obviousness of this is so subtle that it's missed by self and senses, that I am existing only and always this present moment, and a continuous reach of what I am extends in all directions, infinite in expansion. To be just this is truly a revelation, and gives cause to explore every aspect of my nature. Whatever else appears in this moment surely belongs as well, there's no issue of something being outside my own allowing nature. Everything is included, and my doubt and discomfort in certain moments is found as equal to the grace that assures me. 

 there's just what is - and right now it all appears as a morning ray of sun stretched towards me, a window open to a breeze, and an easy flow of words that reach this page. What is, now, is an openness to appearance, to what the world may offer. This moment is new, never before arrived and yet is direct to every other event unfolding. I am continuous in nature, fluid, and yet somehow too familiar within an ever changing expression. I am not just one thing but an aspect of everything that has gathered to this moment and this seems so in each moment of my appearance. 

What is, right now - is aware, an active note of simply existing. It's the only thing truly noted, of being aware of myself and these thoughts occurring, how these words appear and then find themselves to the page. Of course this changes, shifting to something other even as I write this. Yet even then, to be aware, remains, expanding to include a new appearance, adding to what now belongs. There is always, only - just what is. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

What I know

What I know:

there's no need to prove the moment, that I exist, and that my experience of right now is valid to awareness alone. As to what I know - there is no truth higher than this, and it's comfort in mystery that brings me peace. There may indeed be a greater Nirvana, a heaven that awaits me, or a savior to lead the way. That's the nature of mystery, I just don't know anything beyond what's been revealed this very moment, and that's the gift of being aware - 

what I know is simple enough, it's direct sensations on the skin, warmth from early sun. It's the taste of coffee in first sip, a subtle shock of bitterness that lingers on the tongue. My morning is filled with little, hidden, aspects that open to attention. I know this only through awareness. To hear birds sing outside my window is to be aware of the seamless grace of song, how each note emerges from a silent field, as if stillness waits for that note alone, and soon the perfect harmony plays in pure awareness. I am gifted with this song, and more, to be aware that this moment is never again to be repeated exactly as before, and that I am aware of my own part as listener, of being aware, is some essential to the whole. My true gift is one of gratitude. 

To seek for anything past this moment is futile - everything is given now, it's revealed this instant or not at all. What I know is simply now. 

~

Peace,

Eric

To read more: https://ericcpmccarty.blogspot.com/2020/09/a-noble-truth-of-its-own.html

Also, please visit: https://headlessnow.com/

A Noble Truth of Its Own

A Noble truth of its own:

My experience verifies itself, not as any deep truth itself, but that I'm aware of it's happening - and this a noble truth of its own, and the only one I know for certain. This is the path of the moment, revelations given by the senses, thoughts unfolding to a witnessing field, and all occurring each instant, unvarnished yet by story, innocent and intimate in their presence. It's the simplicity of what is, how it all changes even by first appearance - and that somehow I find myself aware to what's present, able to note life as motion, and come to terms with all that passes. My experiences verify only that I'm aware. 

To this moment, the right now of morning, and I find myself in writing mood. There is a sense of anticipation, a slight fear at first sight of empty page, and then the feel of keyboards in confident trust of what will appear. So much of writing is simply waiting. Sounds are carried to me, birds providing songs, distant cars, outside life arriving to my morning. I can see past my office to the window, witnessing this arrival too by sunlit leaves that reach from trees to find my windowsill, getting a sense of breeze and moisture from a late night rain. This is all given given to my attention, an act of determined watchfulness on my part. Yet it all occurs through subtle presence, a seamless awareness that lends itself fully as life's expression. 

So this is what I write of, my experience of experiences unfolding in personal note - I am aware of this moment, the changing morning, my urge to write of its description. I am aware of awareness and how it's gifted to me now. My experience of one of gratefulness. 

Peace,

Eric 

To The Woods

To the woods:

to the woods - and each tree comes individual to my attention, unique in its own fashion, and still belongs completely to the same ground as every other tree, nourished by the same sun and rain, all beneath one sky. My experience is both the deep woods, a gathered life of trees, as well as the intimacy that each tree gives in its completeness. I'm nourished too by all that's been given to the woods, we are a shared beneath the sun, touch by rain, and from the earth. I am a forest in their presence. 

The story tells of what a tree is, what makes it separate from other trees, it's use to animals and man. It's a story of fiction told real. True, but not complete. I share this story too, my own told to others and myself of what I am, what keeps me apart, and my use to people and society. It's fiction. A tree is of use by simply being, there's no mission to fulfill a story, no effort to its spread of branches - there's no question of it being from the earth, the deep roots of its connection to every tree that makes the woods, there's no question to what it offers to the world. 

To the woods - and each tree offers me this lesson. I am told that I belong, a kinship of being. I am of the woods too, connected by deep roots, shared beneath the same sun and sky. In the absence of a story - I am the woods, no different than a tree in my own unique fashion. There's no question to what I offer to the world. 

I am. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

What Is

What is:

to let what is - yet even this misleads in its subtle indication that there's someone to allow a thing to be, that things could be otherwise if only more effort was applied. Allowing happens on its own. My surrender to whatever the moment holds is an afterthought, claiming an action clearly not of my taking. This isn't passive acceptance, but clearly noting whatever is happening now, what appearance is found, and what is already passing. It's seeing the motion of life in terms of my belonging. To let what is - without my interference to life's motion, knowing that even my objections belong, and that any action taken is best when recognized by this order. It's the Tao of non-doing.

This is much more simple than it may sound, gentle, and in truth it all happens entirely on its own. Whatever appears in my life is allowed by virtue of its appearance, a non-argument with reality, and coming to terms with this is the meditation of the moment. To let what is - and right now I find myself in early morning calm, a chirp of insects play outside my window, and soon it seems there will come a storm. There's an infinite interplay of things arriving, structures changing even in my observation, and already what's been noted has become something other than before. Life continues. Motion. It's all allowed, and to wish for life to pause, or to offer an alternative to right now is to struggle with what's known. 

To let what is - and this is life in its full allowing nature. 

Peace,

Eric 

Is Aware

What I am - is aware:

This, my direct path of simply being - what's felt now against skin, whatever scent to reach my nose, each sound that registers no matter how faint, and every detail of the world that unfolds before me. It's all known through my experience of the moment, aware, effortless, and it's all I need in practice, just to note that life is happening right now - and that I am joined, fully, in its occurrence. There's no question of awareness here, my experience may mislead on origin, the story I apply later will never be truthfully, completely told - but that I am aware in the very moment of which something happens, is not at all doubted. What I am is aware. 

This is a practice only so much as needed, once noted it's surrendered too and life continues in its own grace of being. Everything on this path is spontaneous, and most celebrated is the gratefulness I find in being alive, that each moment I am gifted with knowing a true intimacy with whatever occurs, everything belonging in the instant that it happens, and that even my judgement and wish for something other belong in equal measure to the beauty that is found. 

So what I am, what we are - is aware. No matter what story is told later, there is always, only, the direct experience of right now. Whatever it is. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Not My Experience

Not my experience, but:

It's not my experience of a single thing - but as the whole and whatever flows to my attention. Any experience is one of participation, and even as I seem a casual observer I am truly linked to a greater belonging with all that's observed. This is the simplicity of being, that I am laid bare to what unfolds each moment as my own reflection and return I reflect my own capacity to what appears. It's an equal exchange of seamless love. 

It's not my experience of the morning-  but simply the morning being experienced with every aspect, each detail that's drawn to my attention, key to the existence of this particular moment. Everything is here as the experience itself, an easy belonging through whatever grace its been delivered. This too is my own inclusion, finding myself aware of what is, and more, that I am even aware that this is so - it's undeserving gift, one not asked for but somehow gained by the same grace that brings everything to existence. 

It's experience. Life, right now, here, it's happening as the experience of being. I am a participant, lending awareness to what unfolds. Everything is equal to the moment, fitting to an observation of an unseen witness that too is found only in the experience itself, having no lasting value past the moment it belongs. There is just, only, this experience of right now. 

Peace,

Eric 

First in My Reality

First in my reality:

experience first is my reality, what's seen, sensed, and lived - and too there is this subtle, knowing presence that holds me as aware. Everything noted belongs in my conscious understanding of it, that is is truly known in an intimate sense without separation. To touch an object is to register infinite cells that gather to my fingers, first in anticipation and then to explore what greets them - there is no point from object to my hands that isn't similar in design, same particles in different pattern but still the basic stuff that comes to form from the spaciousness of its existence. Quite literally, I am experiencing myself from initial reach, to emptiness between, and then final rest of fingers. One thing only in true experience. 

All this is found in awareness, direct, personal in the deepest self - yet, perhaps to subtle for my attention. My experience is always one of being aware, even I'm lost in desire of the senses there is always the reality of this presence, the silent note of occurrence. I am aware, and this is not self proclaimed but simply noticed. Everything is experienced in this awareness. This is my first and only reality, the science of being, and provides an infinite scope for exploration. In a very real sense, life is limitless in the possibilities to be known. Life is my experience. I am aware of the mystery that it holds. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

To Write This Moment

To write this Moment:

that I am, aware, conscious that it's so - I have no cause to speculate beyond this. Curiosity and imagination are creative tools and help break the solidity of faith. But at a this point, it seems, answers no longer provide a certain truth, that now my faith belongs to the simplicity of what is, having found an allowing peace to comfort. I am curious to the motion of it all, of the changes happening even through the stillness of my observation. Imagination is the wish of words that urge me in a futile try of description. It's enough to be aware of this, awake to the possibilities of what each moment brings, and that even now it's all in motion, shifting in some subtle sense of form and structure. Any questions as to reason, or what may follow are beyond me. I am, aware, and conscious that it's so - everything else is speculation. 

It's this moment only that I'm aware of, my experience of now and this too may hold memories and projections for tomorrow. But it all belongs to this moment. Curiosity and imagination are gifts that somehow reach me in this exact time, this creative, constant now, always fluid and allowing. This is my moment and what appears is the urge to write, a spontaneous expression voiced in words. I have no idea why or where this urge came from - that I am, aware, and conscious that it's so, is all I need to write this moment. 

Peace,

Eric 

All Theory

It's all theory:

past this point, right now - it's all theory, nothing proven in my life until it comes to my existence. This is freedom from belief and it offers an openness not often found for me before. It's not that I don't still hold beliefs or allow myself to explore other views on how to know the world. But everything's allowed to be questioned and even beliefs once cherished are given space in which to roam. I hold it all lightly, without need to grasp a single thought or idea for longer than a moments exploration. For me, this a freedom for curiosity to remain, a return each moment to not knowing anything for certain other than a wish explore further the mystery that life offers. It's freedom to know myself as I am without previous notions, without concepts given from a time before, and to just simply allow myself to be. 

Beyond this moment - it's all theory. I might speculate on what's to come but that's imagined from this instant on, this moment itself being only what it is right now. I stay here, allowing the world to reveal itself without my thoughts of interference. It's an easy meditation. To just abide as part of this unfolding, not needing to return because I'm always here, always now, even if my mind will wander. What's revealed are sensation, experiences of sight, sound, and touch against skin - the morning unfolds with light parting through clouds to find my window, birds in note to chorus of their own making, a first taste of coffee in a warm greeting to my lips. I truly know these experiences only now, in another moment they're memories of another morning. Tomorrow's morning is a theory of what might happen, of how sun light will find me, if birds will have another song to offer, or even if I'll have a wish for coffee. Nothing is certain. Yet I have this moment, and that it's already changing, shifting to a new understanding. It's not a theory. It's life - happening always, only, right now. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

A Grateful time of Being Aware

at this point it, it's curiosity, a playful time of being aware and knowing that it's so - of course this was always true, but there once was a struggle to be something more, to find myself in a higher field of pure awareness. This wasn't really about enlightenment, although I thought at times it was. What I deeply wanted to was to escape, to leave a bitter world behind even for a bit, perhaps just a sense of ease to lead me through a day. I wanted to transcend. And I bought every promise to take me there, books, teachers, and sacred vows. Nothing delivered. 

Here's the real promise - nothing is supposed to deliver, and I'm thankful this is so. There is no transcending life, and what a shame it would be to miss the fullness that it brings. Yes, at times I suffer, deeply so, and just as often I delight in the simple things I find at hand. Even this moment, warmed by a single beam of early sun, quiet, words coming to me on this theme, spontaneous, and everything I need to write these thoughts down. It's complete. There's nothing missing from this - and the gift is to be aware of this completion, knowing that even in my gratitude it's all changing, shifting in another way that may not be as joyful as this one simple, single moment of expression. Yet whatever arrives, however it all shifts and changes - that moment too will be complete. Everything belongs. That's the promise. 

At this point it is curious, a playful time of being aware, a bit more patient with myself, kinder, knowing that what appears is here for whatever length of stay that life may offer. Nothing has to be different. But is soon will be. I don't have to struggle with any of this, to be aware, to transcend anything that meets displeasure. Everything happens on it's own. I might still find myself struggling, perhaps lonely, frustrated with the world times. That's life too. I have no idea of anything other than this moment - I'm grateful for what it holds, that I'm aware of it's shifting, changing nature, and curious about what next appears. 

Peace,

Eric 

That I am a River

That I am a river:

and more, that I am a river without true bank to hold an edge, only current touched against current in endless display of motion. To say that much of what I know as the world is an illusion does a disfavor to my experience of reality. Life certainly feels solid and substantive and I live accordingly, navigating with care through the life that I'm living. Yet, there's a greater theme at play too - things are not as solid as they seem, and my own existence is vast beyond my measure. Reality shows a different scene entirely and that illusions are simply seen in another light. 

What I am is a river, a current of potentiality, energy and information - the flow of life in a narrow stream of experience. I am touched against infinite currents, and somehow kept to form, recognized in this personal expression of myself. It's all a river, one motion, with different recognition's, the universe awash in information. Energy. 

With this now, knowing myself as motion - I give myself away. It's more than letting go, as this involves a will that just doesn't belong to what's really taking place. There's only surrender to what is - a river serves only its continuation and its power stems from circumstances at play, accepting storms that rage its waters with the same ease as droughts that slow it to a trickle. The river itself continues. This is the effortlessness of life, that it happens in rage and trickle without my involvement, but still I am invested in its flow. A current of participation even in this letting go. What I am is a river within river within river...infinite. 

Peace,

Eric 

Only Real Moment of My Existence

The only real moment of my existence:

and while it's true that now is a constant, the only real moment of my existence - it isn't static, a fixed position that I arrive to. No, it's motion itself, fluid in it's allowing nature. Everything I experience is now, always now, and yet each moment is unique in what it offers, never lasting past its brief point of presentation before becoming something new. Now is ever changing and yet available though a lifetime, singular in its perspective and still containing all the world. 

This, than, right now writing words, drinking coffee, aware of the sun making it's way to light my room - this, is the only real moment of my existence. Until I note its motion. Already the words have changed, coffee less by every sip, and the sun has lit my room. But still, it's always now, somehow remaining fully present to all that changes. 

Noting this, I find a certain timelessness in my life, that something stays aware through every point of observation. I make no claim to understand this, to speculate on how this came to be, or add a label as to what this could be called. It simply is. And somehow too it's what I am - a sense of stillness amidst the motion, an observer to my own unfolding scene, nowhere am I found separate from it all. Seamless. This, right now, is the only real moment of my existence - whatever it is that's found, and everything belongs. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

As This

it will never be this again - each moment is a now experienced only once, a shift to something other even as I note that this is so. I gain a deep appreciation with this noting, a pause of my own action to simply rest in this awareness. Life is motion. It's occurring in participation of my thoughts, body, and sense of being - right now my thoughts flow with words inspiring to reach the page, my body literally swims in a trade of cells and particles to make and remake this form I call my own, and my sense of self too expands and contracts to what the moment holds. All I really know is change, constant, and rely on memories of what's since passed as an anchor to right now. 

Yes, it will never be this again, not in any true way, but there is certain faith in stationary existence, a hope that I can a particular cherished moment. Perhaps if only in a memory. But all I really, ever have is right now, this, and whatever it is that fills this moment. And it's fleeting. It's in knowing this that real joy begins, tinged with the sorrow of loss, not at all opposites but the true experience of each moment. I am grateful to be aware of this, and even as I forget that this is so, often, there is just as quick the joy of remembering - catching a glimpse of what passes, joined in the act of letting go, and now a smile for what may now arrive. 

As this - I live in possibilities. 

Peace,

Eric 

No Learning This

there's no learning this, no practice to achievement, nor effort to be anything other than what we truly, always, already are. It's not esoteric. In my own sense I've to some realizations by simply relaxing, allowing the world to reach me each moment without my own frantic search for answers confusing the issue. It's also not complicated. This moment alone holds everything I've ever looked for - from peace of mind, ultimate love, to the truth of God. Does this mean the search is over? That every answer is now told? No, it means there never was a search to begin with, and that answers only matter to a questioning mind. This was a revelation to me, that my questions would often change to suit a better, wished for answer. I wanted my truth. What there is - is mystery. And this is revealed as it is, no label that I offer will make it any less so. It's also present right now, always, it's my unfolding nature that is never truly told, only known as my own sense of simply being. 

Yes, there is no learning this, but only because it doesn't take anything, no effort, to be. I already am. I existence. I am alive. And I am aware. I am. There was no learning to be alive and to find myself aware happen with the first blinking of an eye. In a sense my life can be seen as a process of unlearning this, forgetting myself as life in it's course expression, and adding imagined layers, labels, and complications to the ease what unfolds. Until I remembered. Suddenly and also subtle - just like that first blinking eye. I remembered. 

So now I know - and it's nothing that I didn't always know before. I am life, experiencing, and aware that this is so. Each moment moment life brings something different in its flow - and this is how it all unfolds. 

Peace,

Eric 

Imagined Borders

Imagined borders:

The imagined border of myself - that I end where my skin meets the world, being held within a mindscape of reality, separated from deep intimacy of life. Yet every border is a touch of made up sides, labels given to divide but always joined as true territory of existence. It's never not one thing only. My own imagined border, and this too is a touch of one thing - from earth giving of its dust and water for my body's creation, to air so constant in the lightness of its press that there is little thought offered to its presence. But deeper still this intimacy, because truly what I'm shown to be is mostly space, and in this I serve in noble capacity to hold, an embrace of the fragility of appearance, given tenderly in recognition that this too, my own self appearing now, is simply temporary form gathered from the infinite particles of the moment. Imagined border falls. 

Real intimacy, for me, is seeing both formless reality, my own vastness, along and without break or pause - my own intense humanness, reality in smaller form, vulnerable to the whims of life's fancy and my own believed faults and failures. It's not even a paradox. Once seen there is no doubt of it all belonging, that is not two thing but simply the seamless flow of one existence. There's nothing more to do from here but relax, and watch the borders fall. 

Peace,

Eric