Our Only Practice

Our only practice: 

really, our only practice is one of allowing - and indeed, it's a practice of a full lifetime commitment, all the way to the last breath taken and surrendered. We are learning to allow what each moment holds without the interference of our denial, that everything is happening in the only way it ever could and this is proven by virtue of whatever's appearing right now. This isn't a blind acceptance or a call for inaction, no, it's more dynamic than that, the practice of allowing is an artful acknowledgement of what's present and our own fluid response in return. It's a play between recognition and response that continues through an entire lifetime, a practice, and once aware that life is constantly allowing, we're more relaxed and easy through the manner we respond. 

we're artist.

living our only practice.

for me this is the true gift of meditation, each moment is a small recognition of allowing, that often thoughts appear and seem to intrude upon a peaceful state of mind. An immediate reaction would be to push the thought away, denying it's moment to appear. And yet through many years of practice I've come to simply bear witness to a thought's arrival, knowing my effort to deny its appearance only leads to further battles of the mind. It's the art of allowing, of recognition and response, and even an initial reaction will find that it's allowed. Everything is, always. It's how life works. 

our only practice is to know that everything's allowed.

even our wish that things were other than they are.

and that's where the real practice begins, our commitment to this art, knowing that our greatest heartache in life is just as pure in it's place as all that gives us pleasure. We are free in our response, but not in what life delivers, tragedy befalls us all, illness and death are always near even as we deny their presence. It's just how things are. So our only practice than isn't one of truly allowing, we are not the ones who decide what's allowed within our lives - no one is, life unfolds with its own course of nature, and we are simply currents in its flow. Our only practice is to see, to bear witness to it all and respond in a heartfelt manner, compassionate, joyful of life even through the pain it often seems to bring. An artist is called to beauty, to add meaning to an empty canvas or a page, if only for themselves alone. 

 that's our only true practice. 

life, allowing...

and the beauty and art of our response. 

~

Peace, Eric 

A Different Type

A different type:

this seems a different type of silence, a subtle quality to it that's not really the absence of sound as it is a fullness that allows every sound to be and emerge noted by my attention. This is the silence of the morning, with my own inner stillness matched to it now, a meeting point between the pureness of my listening and all that's heard these early hours - or perhaps even deeper still, where there is no separate notion of listening and the distinction of sound, but only the silent nature of a primordial mind far greater than my own, and it's from here that every thought and sound emerges, vibrations all...

and from this, my morning world created,

it's a different type of silence.

or maybe my listening is simply different at this hour, softer in discernment, allowing, and the morning offers no edge between this deep silence and the sounds that reach me now. This is the quality of meditation that I most cherish, everything so still, my breath hushed to the point of just a quiet motion barely sweeping through me...listening, and hearing the exactness of the morning, no labels, nothing identified as being outside of this very moment. 

the morning existing, just as it is.

now.

always.

only.

indeed, it's a different type of listening.

but really... it's how the world is always found.

~

Peace, Eric 

Meditation and Awakening

Meditation and awakening:  

 does meditation lead to awakening? Well that's an often and hotly debated question in certain social media circles, and as a long time meditation practitioner, a student and a teacher, as well as someone who has had a profound experience of awakening - I'm often asked to weigh in with my opinion. I seldom do. Honestly, it's just not an issue of which I'm interested debating upon, although I'm always happy to discuss both topics at length. For me, meditation and awakening can't be truly separated, they're not two different things with one leading inevitably to the other, and I don't believe that awakening has one true cause that can be pinpointed to anything for certain. 

meditation is what I do.

awakening is what I am.

and the two belong together, seamlessly so. 

but it might be different for you, and I'm perfectly find with that and have no need to argue otherwise, it seems there's no sure answer that will really satisfy everyone. And we don't need one. Meditation and awakening become a certain flow at some point, and again, for me at least. Every time I sit I find that I expand a little more, a surrendering occurs, or perhaps it's better said that I more clearly notice the constant surrender already now taking place. My physiology changes with meditation, my biology, I am hardwired down to my very cells for a natural awakening to occur. It's just happens and meditation is simply what I'm called to do, my sitting filled with love for the exact thing I'm doing. 

yet my own most profound awakening didn't occur while I was sitting, it was active, sudden, and lasting. It also continues, engulfing my meditation practice as an aspect of its expansion, my entire life a single process of awakening now. Meditation and awakening aren't two different things for me, one doesn't give cause to the other any more than sunset causes the moon to rise or the next morning's dawn to appear. They aren't separate events, being far too seamless to viewed apart in anyway. I'm sure someone else might provide a more definitive answer. From me...this one will have to do. Meditation is awakening. 

it's just one thing.

seamlessly so. 

~

Peace, Eric   

One Great Ecology

One great ecology:

from the subtlest level of whatever desire gives first cause for particles to swirl as our existence, all the way to earth itself and every life-form, mountain range, stream and ocean - it's an ecology of one thing only, self-supporting, the presence of our true and pure being. We could call this God, Brahman, the ultimate reality of existence. But really it's just mystery, unknowable, and we can only surrender ourselves as being aspects of this one great ecology. 

in this light we are part of a living system, essential in our role of breath and being, and that we find ourselves conscious, aware, brings us added pleasure to our role. We are able to know ourselves as belonging to this one great ecology, serving in various ways that expands our sense of individual happiness, and thus the entire universe gains from our appreciation of simply being alive and in service to each other. Perhaps that's the only true and certain point of life...

to be of service to the world.

this isn't meant to imply that we must all dedicated our lives to noble deeds and jobs of higher purpose - although that certainly remains an option to those who feel called to do so. But I believe that our greatest service is at the localized level of being, that our happiness is essential to the world, and further, that it gives cause for the universe to expand itself in pleasure. This isn't the fleeting happiness of gaining fortune and favors, or owning things that give us fleeting satisfaction - no, this is the sincere and simple happiness of knowing that we belong within such a beautiful world, that just by being alive and drawing breath we serve as a universal expression of momentary experiences, that we are the universe knowing ourselves through our individual ways and stories. 

one great ecology of beingness. 

of course this is only speculation, a morning's worth of words playing from my mind and fingers, typing out these words as quickly as they're given. I'm in search of poetry and not at all concerned with the factual expression of the universe. But it makes me smile to write this, it feels as if a subtle truth has been spoken after all - and in some deep and certain way, I feel that perhaps I've been of some service in my writing and the joy I felt this morning, 

and that the universe right now...shares my smile of pleasure. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Melville's Way

Melville's way: 

it was Melville's way, inspired by an ocean's vision, yet written entirely from a Berkshire's view of farm and fields, sun burnt corn husks substituted for the actual sea. The story of Moby-Dick took place in Herman Melville's mind, transforming farmland into an ocean's scene and mythic quest for the Ahab's whale. The ocean is always within us, our primordial home, saltwater coursing through our veins even now. In a true sense, we've never severed the ancient pull of tides, and find ourselves still called to wander on its shores, tempted to swim back to the depths of our origins one more. 

Melville's way was to transform farmland into the ocean, separated by hundreds of miles, and yet those inner tides were so strong and vivid as too pull his soul directly to a whale's chase across the water's vast expanse. This was a true transformation for the author, not purely imagined, but the actual spray of ocean's foam felt across his brow, the smell of brine filled his nose, waves knocked against the barn from where he wrote his tale. 

this wasn't done by his imagination, not a literary trick of his mind.

he simply called himself home.

his inner ocean all along.

and Melville's way is our meditation, that we are in our primordial midst right now, at home within the infinite reach of the cosmos. Our ocean is silence, and we are always at its shore, seamless really, a thought's edge from the depth of our existence, available to explore. For me, it's the mantra that acts as the ship for my exploration, but it could be the breath, or sensation of the body. Anything. It really doesn't matter because we are home right now, residing in the silence of the ocean, both wave and shore simply vibrations for the creation of our world. Meditation is our Melville's way of remembering where we truly are right now, with an ocean coursing through the very body of our existence. 

home. 

~

Peace, Eric 

First Note

First note: 

there's a narrow window of quiet in the time just before dawn, even the few sounds to reach me are somehow muted by this hour. I wake early for this, to be immersed in silence, meditate, perform my rituals of writing, coffee at hand and then the wait for words. There are times when I'm tempted to sleep a little longer, rolling over for a few more minutes, or more, as it's early enough that I could extend my sleep by an hour and still not cut into the productiveness of my day. But then I would miss that first note of the morning's birdsong - how it emerges from the almost pure silence of its hold, and then seems to hang in the air for my notice, artful, a sound woven through the quiet as if just for me to hear. It's always one note, tentative, and with a long return to silence after before committing to entire song. 

it seems somehow a holy moment.

these are the moments right after sitting in meditation, and I find myself as deeply hushed as the morning, what few thoughts appear drift slowing through my mind without added commentary of mental chatter. I am as untouched by thought as the sky is by any passing cloud. This is unique to morning, at least by its depth and the quality of stillness. Perhaps this is why that first note of birdsong resonates so deeply, as I am so purely receptive to its greeting, listening to its first, gentle, almost seamless break of silence, its hushed and easy return to the quietness of the moment...and then giving voice to actual song. 

this is my participation, bearing witness to this inspiration, that very first note of morning song, my listening essential to the uniqueness of its creation. Without my presence this moment wouldn't happen, not in this way, as I am the added element to this listening that takes great pleasure to its arrival. Maybe tomorrow I will miss this, rolling over for one more hour of needed slumber, there's always that chance and sometimes it's a temptation. But not this morning, right now I am fully immersed in song, inspired, warmth of coffee, and easy flow of words. 

it seems somehow a holy moment. 

~

Peace, Eric  

Not A Problem

Not a problem at all: 

no matter how the hard problem of consciousness it viewed, either that it arises from non-sentient matter to somehow give us the experiences of the world, or that consciousness exists throughout all matter, perhaps varying by degree of measure, that by its very nature everything alive is imbued with a certain innate sense of self-awareness - no matter how it's described, or the argument eventually concluded, our own answer plays out with each breath taken, with every tear shed through sorrow, and the joy felt by witnessing another morning's sunrise. I's not a problem at all, hard or otherwise, we are alive, aware, and that our world abounds in mystery. 

it's enough to know that somehow this is so.

not a problem at all.

my preference is a direct approach, to leave philosophy and debate aside and simply point towards my own seamless experience of being aware, knowing that it's so without need of answers as to why, or how, this awareness came to be. In a truer sense, it's not an experience at all, but more a recognition that an event is taking place, that's there's a quality happening unique to this moment alone, and already, even through my notice, is shifting in subtle, mysterious ways. I can point to this directly, it's happening now, and now, yet always elusive, evading any conceptual understanding and defying explanation. Yet it's not a problem at all...it's simply living, and being aware that life happens completely on its own, and that we just a temporary point of its expression. 

of course that's only my description, not meant to be accurate by any means of science, philosophy, nor anyone else's view of conscious explanations. We're all entitled to our stories, our interpretations of events and experiences and however they unfold. None of this is a problem until we make it so - and even than life continues in its play, happening perfectly on its own no matter what conclusions are ever drawn. It's not a problem at all.

only life....

continuous,

happening.

now, and always now.

mysterious. 

~

Peace, Eric 

 

Deep Response

Deep response:

quantum physics fascinates me and with only understanding a fraction of what I read, probably less than that, and to say that I understand might actually be a boastful claim. Yet something resonates, a deep response from within that something true is being presented here, and not so much in a factual way, but as if a blueprint of my essential nature, more ancient than my DNA, has been shown to me. Quantum physics feels like it's the study of the self in the most fundamental way. 

and so does meditation. 

in essence - meditation takes me to my essential nature, consciousness itself, existing before a single thought arises, selfless, pure and open. Not with every sitting, even after 30 plus years of practice, but often enough, and it's here that I recognize a similar deep response as reading quantum physics, that there's something quiet profound being offered, an opportunity to truly know myself beyond a cellular level and simply be again the very fabric of life, existing as so for all of eternity. 

is this true? 

reality at it's most fundamental level?

it doesn't matter, not really, I'm not looking to shake the world with my understanding of consciousness and quantum physics. I'm not even trying to understand my own essential nature and it's connection to the universe. I'm just sitting, allowing myself to exist exactly and as easily as I am, and it seems that with this comes a deeper response from both the universe and myself, more than a connection, it's a felt sense of true and real belonging. 

one thing.

as if essential.

so meditation doesn't lead me to an understanding of quantum physics, not even to an understanding my of my own essential nature - it simply and only leads to that deep response of knowing that I belong fully to the world, an aspect of the universe as ancient as the original singularity that gave cause for all of this to be. A deep response that tells me I'm essential by my very nature. 

exactly as I am.

~

Peace, Eric 

Unanswerable

Unanswerable: 

there is a Zen koan asking us to reveal our original face before we were born, or even before the birth of our parents and grandparents - unanswerable, yet we ask by means of exploration, who are we, truly, before the birth of this existence? It's important to drop any pure intellectual approach here, abandoning any concepts we bring to this inquiry. Simply asking ourselves the koan, allowing it to work through us and eventually leading to a revelation, that's the critical point of any self-inquiry or use of a koan. My own approach was offered by Douglas Harding of the Headless Way and it's directly pointing at the source which allows all experience, concepts and identity to be shown. Show me your original face is the question - and the answer is seen, not told, remembered and experienced at once. 

unanswerable by words.

yet deeply known.

and always present too

 what's being asked of us is to show reality and that's always, only, this very moment, nothing else can ever be pointed to, not described in any true sense, nor offered as a valid experience. We only know right now. Our original face is being shown, ironically, by the absence of our present face, or at least that's what our own pointing reveals to us, that any attempt to view our own eyes without aid of a mirror, or looking at a photo, will always end in vain. But of course that's just eyes and ears, our facial descriptions, and not our original face at all. 

we see it in two ways,

one is through absence, finding that we're unable to locate, to actually pinpoint within our view, the face we've always believed we knew, our very identity vanished by a single look. This particular koan, at least by Headless Way, shows that we are nothing like we've long assumed, nothing at all really, empty of a single source that could ever hold our true identity. 

our original face is emptiness.

and yet,

the second point to see is that emptiness is more truly viewed as capacity, and it's here that our original face is realized through the immediacy of all that's ever shown. Who we are is reality, and that's why the koan always remains unanswerable, revealing us as motion, shifting, current only in the same sense as a river's present flow. We are never the same through any repeated view, always a different revelation shown. We are emptiness, but not without the very essence that somehow shapes and lends itself as every aspect of the world. 

our original face is capacity.

as well as everything it ever holds. 

seamless.

and in this way, our inquiry, this koan that asks of us to reveal who and what we really are - remains unanswerable...

yet always plainly in our view. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Thin Places

Thin place: 

writing, at least in how I approach it, is really a form of magic and self-inquiry, an exploration into the thin place between the realm of pure ideas and the everyday world where I wait for words to find me. This inquiry is allow the page it's emptiness without projections of my own fears of being unable to provide the proper words to fill it, it's not to judge any idea that appears and needs to be expressed, and most importantly it's simply asking what wishes to be told, listening as the early morning whispers from its own thin place of dawn, with night still touched against the arriving day for just an instant longer.

in Celtic lore a thin place is a rare location where the space between heaven and earth is more porous, a sacred place where our prayers are more easily heard and answered. Writing is it's own thin place, sacred too through our petition for words and the way we use them for the invocation of meaning and purpose, ideas arriving clearly from an unknown source. It's all magic of a kind. 

the aspect of self-inquiry comes in by asking ourselves if this holy location is as far  from us as we seem to believe, or perhaps that the thin place between writing and ideas has always been our own exact location, existing all along within the framework of our minds. With this we ask ourselves the important question of if indeed there is another side, that really any line drawn as a border is simply and only our own skin between a higher world of conscious order, just a continuation of what we truly are, border-less and free in our expression. 

again, it's all magic, writing, a world of ideas existing at our fingertips, just waiting to be expressed and explored. It's a thin place here, my desk and morning hours, the ritual and invocation of the warmth of coffee and relaxing breath as I begin my wait for words. My inquiry begins by silently asking the page what ideas it wishes to be known, finding my own reflection through the emptiness of it's hold, and waiting for that first glimpse of ideas to appear from whatever world they belong to now. Writing is just the end result of ritual, the true magic isn't words alone but the entire process of their arrival. To miss this is to deprive ourselves of the enchantment of this thinnest place of all...

between wherever we are now,

and the holiness of our own true nature. 

always.

~

Peace, Eric  

Write About Writing

Write about writing:

some mornings I'm simply not inspired with a theme or topic, my creative need is present, but no clear idea makes itself known to be written. On these mornings I usually write about writing, or how inspirations makes itself known through the process of patience, listening, and the desire to create. Words always seem to flow from here, as if it's an invocation to a muse and what follows after is a blessing for this process. This works for me, not just to write about writing, but to allow myself the freedom of not knowing when or how inspiration will next appear, of not needing a particular topic to give me the urgency to write, or if words will even come to me. It really doesn't matter, what I've discovered is that silence is the creative home for words and I am happy to abide here, silent too, listening, patient. 

and words find me when the time is right for writing.

so for me it's all really about self-exploration, the whole process, writing a single word and seeing what, if anything will soon follow. I imagine the same may be true for painting, how a single line brushed against canvas might lead to further inspiration. Or perhaps from a different perspective, that a lone stroke has been left as testament that an artist had arrived to face the empty canvas and placed great care and emphasis on leaving the perfect line of this moment's clear expression. 

sometimes a single line is all that's needed.

or just a few words.

and sometimes I write about writing.

it's all an expression of the moment, whatever mark we leave against the page, clear, pure, and it's only the judgement that follows after that muddles the clarity of what's been given. One word can be the perfect expression of a moment if it's written with the right intention. By this I mean that we, as an artist, are aligned with the greater intention of our creative spirit, that our will is as empty as the page, our mind opened to the infinite potential that emptiness and silence hold, and our hearts are filled with the purity of this intent. From here, and this point on - whatever is written, whatever mark is left against the page...

is perfect in its expression. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Animal Companions

Animal companions: 

after a long absence of animal companions (aside from a suspected mouse or two) I am now sharing home with two adopted cats, siblings, 10 years old and bonded to each in a caring way. My ex-wife told me about them during a walk recently and shared that there was concern that they would either be separated or no one would wish to take both cats at once. Although unsure if up for giving them the deep love and care every per deserves, it broke my heart to think of them be taken from each other when there was something I could do to be of service, as well as the belief that, perhaps, I need a little deep care of my own, some emotional therapy that only pets provide. 

it's been over 2 years since my beloved dog companion Toby passed on, and a year before that I lost Mandy the corgi, a special breed and even more exceptional dog. Of course I still miss them both, I always will, and there may come a time when I'm ready for another dog - but not quite yet, and maybe not for awhile longer. I do have a loaner dog companion though, Misty the Pomsky (Pomeranian/Husky/all Misty) my ex-wife's dog and she brings me great joy on her daily visits for long walks and treats (she get's the treats) I can hardly imagine my life without some sort of animal companions, if even only visits. I am enriched beyond measure with just a brief visit from Misty and now we have two cats to join our home, adding to the joy. 

honestly, even as I made the decision to adopt the cats I had some doubts and concerns, on my end, if I was up for providing the human companionship that pets deserve. Our animal companions need much more than the basic care of food and water, there is a bond offered in return for theirs and it's as much required as any other need. It's been a long few months of healing since my father's death, and for months before that I was his critical caregiver for quite sometime. I'm still healing, still feeling broken too, really, and I'm unsure just how care I have in me to give right now. Of course that's the thing, we never know, it's not even a matter of knowing, it's simply what we do, as called for and when needed - we love. It's what we're made for, what and who we truly are. My two new animal companions have already reminded me of this. So it's time now to heal. 

it's time to offer love. 

always. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Waves to Vibrations

Sound waves to vibrations: 

from sound waves to vibrations of the eardrum it's all an exchange of energy, physics really, and it's simply being aware that something profound is now taking place, communication with and through the world in a meaningful way -  that this becomes listening. 

it's amazing to consider that we can actually cause a vibration in air that's translated into sound and then a specific meaning added. More so that we are warned of danger, soothed by nature's sounds, consoled by a friend, and able to transcend to higher states of being through the beauty of a song. All from sound waves to vibrations occurring in the air. There's more to this of course, how the brain operates to make sounds meaningful enough to cause an immediate action, interpreting a vibrations as a sign of danger, or the proper response of greeting a friend. What seems such a simple, natural act, just hearing, is so complex in the dynamics of all these interactions. 

and yet it's something far more subtle that turns this process to listening, from here it becomes somewhat of an art of consciousness, a turn of attention in a purposeful act of wanting to know the deepest aspects of what is being heard. We could call this love, a bit more abstract than what is normally thought of, but it's through this attention of waves to vibrations that we turn an act of physics and biology into listening to the meaning of the world. It's our way of seeking to truly know what's being heard beyond what words alone convey, we want to delve into the very essence of a sound wave and join in single vibration, harmonize, a universal song. 

indeed, from sound waves to vibrations - listening is an act of love. 

it's what we offer to each other.

and through this, we add meaning to the world.

~

Peace, Eric 

Resurrection

it's Easter Sunday, the day of the Resurrection in the Christian tradition and on a rare occurrence, happening only four times in the 20th century and for the first time in this one - it's my birthday as well. I should mention too that Passover coincides with Easter this year and this happens only about once every 30 years or so. It's an auspicious day for sure, at least for me it seems, and I choose to see it that way, that it's early in a new season, a hint of green and early buds greet my daily view, the morning air holds a little less of a chill. From a dark and very long winter, one that actually began for me on October 2nd, on the evening my father tool his last breath - it comes to this day of holy traditions and birthday all coinciding now, and I feel like an unstated promise has been fulfilled...

life continues. 

spring is my favorite time of the year anyway, even without this auspicious occasion to mark it for celebration. I always feel that a dormant part of me comes alive again to welcome the warmth and new green of the season. Especially so this year.  And although I'm not a Christian, the day of the Resurrection holds such beautiful meaning and an offer of hope that we will all survive a crucifixion of faith in the promise that life holds for us. I see it now on my birthday, not as a celebration of an event long past, but that yes, truly that this day and every day to ever follow is a time of resurrection, each moment being a rebirth to a new life that offers the promise of it's continuation. 

and indeed life continues, not always in the way that's hoped for, and perhaps not in the way some traditions describe - but it will continue through the grace of seasons, long winters giving way to the warmth and green of spring, and if we allow ourselves to see it, there is also the resurrection of all that's been loved before within this very moment. No tree is truly barren in winter, there is life root deep and spread through earth, faith in its resurrection, a sure knowing of spring's arrival. We can see this, looking deeply with the same sense of knowing, that life always exists through the scenery of every season, and on this day, auspicious by chance and tradition - I celebrate my life, a new season of warmth and green, and the root deep love and presence of all that ever once felt lost to me. 

it's truly a day of resurrection.

~

Peace, Eric 

Stillness Itself As Motion

Stillness itself as motion:

at some point in meditation there comes a profound insight of stillness itself as motion - that they are not two separate events, but more truly seen as the same exact thing, one in essence, and occurring at the very same time. Or at least it appears to be this way, and as it is with any insight nothing should, nor even can be, stated as sure and certain, as there is always infinitely more to reality than what is currently being revealed. An insight is really only a glimpse of possibilities and never the entire show of reality. In this light I often find myself reluctant to share an insight, not wishing to debate an issue still unfolding through my mind. Yet the nature of a writer is to share, taking chances to be misunderstood or maybe proven wrong, for the opportunity put insight into words. 

stillness itself as motion.

not two opposing forces - and just the same with silence and words shared, a quiet mind and insights somehow given, each in essence one thing only. The impact of this is a softening of opinion, that nothing is truly opposed by nature, and that all things are allowed their individual expressions, an aspect of the whole affair of life and living. 

in this sense than, a heart sutra, nothing in opposite, form and formlessness in continuous shifting of expression, and all the while being faithful to the essence of a singular nature. Stillness itself as motion, sharing words from an insight that's been given, whatever it is, all of it really -what a truly miraculous appearance, and perhaps the deeper insight is that I don't understand any of this at all, none of it, and that I'm just an occurrence too in this whole affair of living, momentarily aware, stillness, notion, shifting even now. I don't know, but my nature is to share, to give words to this expression.

stillness itself as motion. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Contradict Themselves

Contradict themselves: 

quite often, it seems, my views might contradict themselves - I'm fortunate that I don't consider myself a teacher, or even someone who has to be held accountable for a shifting story and changing viewpoint. I simply write what each moment holds for me as true right then, and allow the words their temporary value on the page. Honestly, I don't know what's true and certain and try my best to write from this perspective, expressing my own translation from a glimpse of mystery.

absolutely everything I write is fiction.

yet also true in the moment that it's written. 

or at least it's a version of being true, relative to the infinite mystery of life that's still to be explored - and it's here that my views might contradict themselves, as what seems an important insight right now might be just a fraction of a much larger truth that will later be revealed. And of course everything is based upon my own interpretation that will most certainly hold a bias, no matter that I try and keep my beliefs at bay while writing. So I allow every contradiction, accepting them as versions of an expanding insight, the same truth told but always from a new and growing perspective. 

or perhaps I'm simply wrong. 

exploring our own consciousness is a science, and with that in mind being wrong is just a matter of course correction, gathering more information, a bit more mystery revealed and processed in new and dawning light. Personally I don't believe there will ever be a final truth in our own exploration of consciousness, that awakening never really ends, expanding, contradicting what we think we know. In the very, very beginning, or at least the beginning of what we believe we know - a singularity of infinite depth and gravity expanded in a sudden burst of energy and self-importance, consciousness dawning, and with this created its very own space-time to give room for its expansion. Neither space, nor time, existed until the universe gave need. We are part of this self-creation, our reality being fluid, expanding it its own needs, and it's simply impossible to make any claim of what is absolutely true and certain in the faith of such expansion. Our views will probably always contradict themselves. 

or maybe I'm wrong about it all. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Spiritual Path

Spiritual path: 

 it's not considered a spiritual path, not really, or at by me it isn't - claiming spirituality seems to mark a separation point between where I am right now and somewhere else I'd like to be, that it's something accomplished or allowed by grace. This isn't to discount that there's higher states of consciousness, nor argue the value of prayer and meditation. There is a spiritual path to follow and it's simply life, everyday existence, mundane, and full of worthy experiences. It's spiritual by virtue of its seamless nature and nothing has to be done to make this happen. So meditation is an aspect of this path, as is prayer, yoga, and a host of other extraordinary things I love to explore - they're all just points of life. 

nothing special, really. 

the question that's often asked then, is - why do them at all?

and right now I'm looking for an answer, an honest one,  and all I can say is that I'm drawn to do so, I find value in their practice, meaning, and great enjoyment. It's not about being spiritual, but that life calls me to explore along the edges, allowing me a different expression, and my aim is to be true to what my life is asking. Yet it would be no different if I were called to be an accountant, or a lawyer, or any other of the countless expressions life has offered to be explored. They each have value if they're an authentic call and our answer is returned in a heartfelt manner. 

in this light then, every path would be spiritual.

and they are.

the problem comes with separation, when there's a belief that something other than the joy of what we're doing has a greater of value. A single path has now becomes many and all leading us astray. Life never asks us to be anything other than what we are, we will never become more spiritual than we are at this exact moment, and no greater truth will be realized than the joy of simply being alive. The path is always seamless to the steps we're now taking.

it's a spiritual path indeed.

~

Peace, Eric 

Value

Value:

there's value in our stories, or perhaps it's better thought that our stories add value to the world by virtue of their content, and that it's left to our consideration as to what exactly we wish to tell and how much of our belief is actually invested. Everything's a story. Yet most, maybe all, are left unexamined and simply believed by repetition or that they were told be trusted sources. A story isn't necessarily fiction, but it's never the full version of any truth, only partially so, and altered through the filters of our beliefs and the faith we have in those who first told them. We've inherited most of our stories, parents, teachers, clergy and media, have all told us how the world should be. 

and we've mostly believed them all. 

so first we examine what's meant by stories - and for this we return to the inherent emptiness of our lives in terms of our values, that everything first exists without a story told, and even now every story is known through our relation with concepts and objects of the world. Somethings only exist as stories and once examined are seen in truer light. Instead of examples here it's best left for our own inquiry,  an individual and personal examination of what we think is true - and that's with the easy process of simply asking ourselves about the stories we tell of anything or anyone, and if we know them to be absolutely true and how we know for certain that it's so. 

it's being honest with and about ourselves.

and with this in mind we are free to dismiss stories that no longer serve us, some that never did, nor ever will, and now create our own personal myths, self creation stories that add value to our lives. Or perhaps we could remain as story-less as possible, totally free of investment of beliefs and see the world through our original view of innocence and purity. Maybe. I'm not sure of that's an option for most of us, or even really necessary. Just knowing that the world exist through stories seems to be enough to offer freedom. My own belief is that adding value is important, that life is best lived with certain meaning and that stories serve this purpose well. Of course that's another story, and one I have chosen to tell myself. I have that freedom. But only because I recognize first that it's a story within endless and ever larger stories told about the world. 

in this light - my story now has value. 

if only to myself, and for however long that it's believed. 

~

Peace, Eric 

How The Buddha Grieved

How the Buddha grieved:

it's how the Buddha grieved, a purity of response that held no suffering attached to it, an appearance of utter sadness that left nothing in its wake. This is our grief as well, just as pure in its experience but we attach beliefs to its engagement, clinging to memories of how life was in sacrifice of every present moment. Grief is meant to flow, to wash over us in cleansing ritual and leave us ready to let go and continue with the process of life, living with the honor of having known, loved, and now grieved for such a cherish aspect of our lives. 

it's how the Buddha grieved. 

we are meant to experience our loss with kindness and respect through however it arises, not to force a false response of how we believe the process should be. The anguish of loss is pure, even beautiful in the depths of its display, such love coming to the surface through the tears of letting go. There is no proper way to grieve but to surrender to this natural response, allowing all that cares to show up, whatever emotion or response, the time and respect its due. Grief has its own duration, no rules to its length of stay, and our only true role is to honor it through its visit in whatever way each moment calls for, to simply be present to our own brokenness and sorrow - without need of being fixed or our grief to pass quickly. We are simply present to our own loss and sorrow. 

our grief is pure. 

it's how the Buddha grieved.

suffering occurs not through sorrow but by our own clinging to ideas of its expression. We forget the purity of this experience, that it belongs to every life, and that no aspect of it should be denied. Grief is part of living, natural, a birthright of our lives. The Buddha grieved because he hurt, experiencing sorrow, and never claimed to be above any part of life at all. The Buddha knew sorrow - and yet he was untouched by any cause of suffering. That's the gift of purity, allowing each experience to arise without manipulation or need for the situation to be other. 

to just allow.

whatever arises...belongs.

even our wish for things to change.

in this purity - it's how we live and grieve. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Our World Is Intimacy

Our world is intimacy:

in it's truest sense, our world is intimacy, life, the seamless touch of our senses to the vibrancy of what they're offered to explore. The world is ours, deeply so, we belong to it in ways not ever really imagined, but we know it's true through the intimacy of our senses, how life rushes to meet their varied functions, and that it all takes place in such easy fashion. From first waking we see the world again, immediately, every objects eager for our gaze. Our ears translate frequencies, a dialog of silence and vibrations, meaningful through the pure experience of this listening. From scent, taste, and touch, we know the world this way, intimately so, truly.

and this is the value of simply sitting, allowing some time to reacquaint ourselves with our senses, not only on the surface level of navigating through our daily concerns of living, but deeper, a re-acquaintance of this intimacy so long forgotten. This is the gift of pausing, any moment, to just slow ourselves amidst activity and feel the world again through our senses.  It'a all here now, everything, immediate, and available to be known through deepest ways possible. We pause and explore what's found right now, for just a moment, remembering that this is who we really are, sensory before translation, seamless. Our world is intimacy. 

yes, our world is intimacy, and this is how we fall in love with life, again and again, infinitely and through every lifetime. It's not reincarnation but rebirth, each moment new in what it offers and we have never experienced it exactly as before, reborn to know it just as it is now, fresh, vibrant, constant and in motion. Life in continuation. Our senses tell us everything is brand new again, reborn for a single experience that's already shifting to another frontier to be explored, no real borders existing between what's perceived and the explorer. 

it's how we truly know the world. 

intimately. 

it's what the senses know.

there is really only, always, the immediacy of now. 

our world is intimacy.

~

Peace, Eric 

Showing Up

Showing up:

well more than 20 years ago I read Steven Pressfields wonderfully inspiring book The War of Art and made a vow to follow the authors suggestion of a daily writing practice, it's what authors do he claimed and cited Somerset Maugham's example of inspiration showing up at his desk every morning at 9 a.m - and I've written daily ever since.  My writing mantra is "words on the page" and that's it really, nothing I write has to please anyone, not even me, it only has to meet my commitment of daily writing. Personally, I've found that this practice has grown in value through the years, I've never not been inspired to sit before the keyboard and see what words will find me in the morning. This, along with my daily meditation practice, seems to leave me endlessly creative, always on the verge of a sudden inspiration. The secret, such as it is - is that I don't care what I write about, as long as I'm writing and that it flows with a certain energy that matches my commitment to the page, a vibrational coherence of the many factors that bring me to my desk so early in the morning. 

I've never not been inspired to write, 

of course this doesn't mean I'm always satisfied with what I write, or that there isn't a pause for words to gather, a length of time left quiet of both words and inspiration. Silence is part of the game, essential, and the only requirement to play this game is patience. So my true commitment isn't to simply rush words to the page and call it a day (although I have done this before, on the fly, just to make sure my vow is honored) no, I am committed to the dynamics of writing, the ebb and flow of creative ideas, and the energy of silence, waiting, patience, not knowing when words will find me, but absolutely certain that they will - whenever conditions meet the auspiciousness for their arrival. 

my only role is showing up.

to be part of this auspicious occasion.

all of this really happens on its own, I'm less involved than would be imagined, simply another aspect of whatever creative force has come to be expressed. An urge to write appears, every morning, without force nor demand of my appearance - a whisper really, soft, beckoning from silence but with a promise of words wishing to be heard, only waiting now for my arrival. The writer is just another part of the creative process, and again my role is to surrender, showing up and then allowing words to be written through me, participating in this ancient art of creative display. It's the very same energy that invoked our far removed ancestors to carve figures on a cave's wall, no reason except giving in to that quiet urge wishing for expression. 

every morning is an auspicious occasion.

our only requirement is showing up.

and this how writing happens.

~

Peace, Eric 

What Can We Do?

what can we do? That's an important to question to ask these days, a time of turmoil in so many ways, across the world there's discord and violence, and here at home we're plagued by political infighting and a what feels like a cold civil world between those with different visions for our country. What can we personally do to help heal a nation, our neighbors, the world?

anything?

of course I don't have an answer, it's too large a problem for any solution I might offer - yet I know what I can do, for myself alone at least, and then I can offer the benefits gained within to others, in some subtle ways at first, perhaps a smile offered to a stranger, or sincerely listening to the concerns of others who see things quite differently than I do. Small things, moments really, adding up to a daily affair, a lifetime of offering peace to others. It's what I can do. 

it's what we can do.

let's start by being a bit selfish, in a certain way at least, and by this I mean let's focus on ourselves alone at first, bringing a sense of peace and well-being into our lives and then we turn this light towards others. For me this is done through meditation, it's a healing art, and more so it's an insightful practice that opens me to aspects of reality that I long ignored, or had no means of truly understanding. Meditation caused a deep relaxation of my concerns about myself, my creative potential, how I relate to others, there simply came an ease and lightness of being through no effort of my own. Simply sitting, twice a day for me, an ancient practice that felt new and refreshing. I've continues for over 30 years. But that's my practice and might not be yours. There are infinite ways of healing, meditation being only one, effective and personal, once learned it's continued on our own, a private affair that contributes to the healing of the world. The Transcendental Meditation movement (of which I'm not associated with) call this the Maharishi Effect, being that if a small percentage of people meditate they will raise their vibrations to the point of causing others to vibrate to a higher plane as well. Maybe, I'm not a skeptic on this but I also just don't know, it's above my meditation pay grade. I only concern myself with what I know for certain from my own experience and growing understanding, which is always changing and expanding. 

so here's what know, my own Maharishi Effect is real and certain, that I am more peaceful now, less reactive and more prone to listen and respond in ways that reflect a growing kindness. My selfish hour in the morning and another sitting later in the afternoon gives me a large reservoir of peace from which to draw from and it's what I offer to the world from the very moment I walk away from my meditation cushion. My meditation continues through the day, a vibration quality that truly affects my every relation, from casual encounters to long friends and family. I have a bit more to offer from myself now, a more sincere and reflective kindness, a deeper peace to give away. 

what can we do? Well meditation is my option, but it might not be yours, there may be another healing path for your to follow, or several maybe. What I do know is that the world won't heal without us, not without our direct participation of healing our own inner wounds that keep us involved in conflict. Could we really suppose that a person of peace would cause a harmful response to others? That wars would continue to exist if leaders were just a bit more enlightened? If we heal ourselves the healing of the world will follow. Our own enlightenment brings us the leaders that deserve to lead, and it begins with whatever healing path one decides to follow. 

it's what we can do. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Know Myself

Know myself: 

that I more aptly know myself as a process, a bundle of seeming parts that act somehow as the whole affair of Eric - and even this is just a seamless show of life, one more aspect in an endless display of energy and structure, appearing and then gone once more. To know myself as this, sensing both my temporariness as well as my essential nature, is to relax into the very process of my being. Life is handling every important function of this, air given freely to my lungs, heart beating without thought or command, every cell perfectly aligned to hold my form, and the world just right for my existence. I am grateful for it all, everything, for the whole process that somehow allows this self to arise and come to know itself as alive, existing, complete within the world.

and that just as easily...none of this may have happened.

to know myself, is to appreciate the impossibility of truly knowing a self at all, that no aspect can be taken from the whole, examined, analyzed, and declared independent in its own existence. I exist only as a process, being fully complete through interactions of infinite sources that will forever remain unknown, mysterious in their cooperation. 

and yet I know myself as this impossibility.

somehow.

that seems a magic word to me, somehow, as it defies any need explanation - somehow I exist, and I'm aware that it is so, and none of it can truly be explained. Again, as a process, there are infinite points of my existence, each essential, nothing that can be taken from the whole and held as my example. I am those infinite points, I am the motion that brings about their connection, the urge that gives cause for interaction, the original vibration that made it all happen. 

everything. 

and somehow. 

to know myself as so. 

~

Peace, Eric 

A Quiet Mind

A quiet mind:

these quiet moments lead to life outside the meditation bench and sacred space of my creation - there's an extended silence now, deep, internal, and one that guides and benefits in ways not imagined long before. I'm often asked of this, what I've gained from my twice daily sittings, some often long periods of simply allowing myself the thinking of a mantra until it drops all together to a quiet mind. I wish I had an easy answer to this, a concise reply that would satisfy the question. But honestly I don't have one, not really, at least not a list that actually answers why I wake so early and welcome the morning with quietness and ease, and then later in the day I sit and match myself again to silence, a ritual of so many years, decades now, that still feels fresh and true. If asked now my answer is most often a smile and a short reply, yes, I could name the many benefits current research states, and how meditation has led me to a creative life of sobriety, living with more empathy and care for others - yet none of that would ever answer why my life is based on the simply, easy joy of sitting with a quiet mind.

my honest answer is for the pleasure of the sitting.

nothing more. 

any benefit is an added bonus to my sitting, this isn't about health reasons, stress reduction, or even a matter of spiritual awakening - all of which meditation may well indeed address. But I sit to enjoy the silence, it's an internal pleasure, independent of the world at large, and yet also leaves me so seamlessly connected as well. The benefits of a quiet mind is a quiet mind. That's it really, I enjoy my own silence, and by this I don't necessarily mean the absence of thought, at least not always and not completely - but that thoughts are allowed to caress this natural, spaciousness of mind, leaving nothing in their wake, not even the smallest of disturbance. I can't weigh the benefits of this, it's incalculable and immeasurable, and really can't be truly described. 

but it's here, always, natural, available.

my reason to sit is because it feels right to do so, ingrained, and yet free and so very spontaneous. If it ever changes from this I would completely let it go. The great discovery of a quiet mind is that it's unattached even to the quality of its own stillness. I return to this, and although it's never really absent. But I enjoy the pleasure of that reminder, the continuous rediscovery of my own quiet mind. 

with every single sitting. 

~

Peace, Eric 

The Body Is Yoga

The body is yoga:

the body is yoga, already divine in the sense of its cooperation, every seeming part devoted to the whole and without any true sense of separation from their larger world. This is the yoga of ever smaller things in process of becoming another aspect of ourselves - of a singular vibration from an infinite field of stillness all the way to the purpose of cell as it performs its vital function. Our origin is of both stillness and the motion of particles becoming the very fabric of our existence, from nothingness and its arrangement now as form. Somehow there is the yoga of the body, such an intricate affair traced to those origins, the asana of a particular self held for the measure of a lifetime. 

the body is yoga.

imagine any posture and its difficulties, first imagined in the mind and then every fiber of the body working for the possibility of holding the posture for just the moment of a single breath. Now imagine the posture of our bodies for an entire lifetime, the asana of our being - is it even possible that we could exist without the cooperation of the universe at large?  That we first weren't imagined in the very mind of God and that everything works through some divine order? In no sense am I implying a singular deity responsible for our creation, nor even the theory of intelligent design. This isn't at all about theories of religion and no attempt to make science fit within a spiritual system of belief. This is simply the imagery of the body as yoga, of how a creative, responsive energy somehow lent itself to our existence, a posture of self, mind and body belonging as the whole. 

it's simple, the body is yoga, a temporary asana held for the lifetime of a breath, and once released we relax again into the creative origin of the pose. Yoga is energy displayed by posture, breath, and motion. It's what we are, a possibility imagined now as form, and there is no separate source that holds this imagination, it's all energy in flux of posture and release, divine, creative, and exactly, always, what we are...

the body is yoga. 

everything is. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Bhakti Yogi

Bhakti yogi: 

it's my consideration is that I'm a bhakti yogi, devotional by nature, and that my every cause is of eventual surrender to the divine. By this I don't mean surrendering to the concept of a deity that appears distant and separate from me at any point, my devotion isn't to a personal god at all, but to the intimacy of the impersonal ground of all existence, life, and every detail that it offers. My devotion is to my own state of being, through every aspect of its support and pleasure. God is sustaining me through air and the ability of taking breath, that my heartbeat is a devotional song in praise of my own existence, and that my every sense is an instrument of God's measure. I am devoted to all that's given to me, everything that's gifted to sustain me, and this leaves absolutely nothing from my worship. 

life itself urges my devotion.

a bhakti yogi is one who is aware of divine relationships, and the deeper appreciation of this is found when all of life appears holy, everything being an aspect of self and God, one thing really, and the world exists to offer distinction of this wonder, awe, and beauty. To be a bhakti yogi is self surrender to the appearance of something other, a reflection only, devotion to their own capacity to hold the world. Nothing is worshiped that isn't of their own becoming. It's all God. It's all self. Everything. Truly a relationship of one thing only, divided for the sake of its devotion. 

and this is why my very end path is one of surrender, devotional to the point of disappearance within the whole, a bhakti yogi in worship of his own self reflection appearing as the details of the world. It's a continuous surrender of this small drop of self knowledge into the larger waters of an ocean's depth - and always again I seem to crest in self awareness, ready once more to give myself away. I'm a bhakti yogi for love of this existence, my own surrender and rebirth, continuous and at once, worshiping life through every aspect of its divine play. 

devotional by nature. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Already Yoga

Already yoga:

really, it's already yoga, lived and experienced by the body as a whole, each cell in individual purpose and yet expressed completely as the world. Life is yoga, undivided in this sense, the union of seeming parts that actually reflect the function of something greater than themselves alone. This is our practice too, that we are individual cells of godhood, aspects of life joined as something far larger than we know. By practice I mean dharma, our purpose of truly being alive and aware. Yoga expresses it with such beautiful simplicity - we are here to breathe, to allow our heart to beat as the rhythm of the world, our bodies given in performance with every cell in dharma practice of their own. 

it's already yoga...everything.

and so we are each yogis, performing our practice through simply being alive, with no need to seek any greater purpose or meaning than what we're doing right now. No cell wishes to be anything other than its own function of life, completely at ease in it's dharma purpose. There is no desire to trade its place for what seems a higher order of expression, for a cell within the tissue of a leaf to someday manifest itself on the fingertip of some distinguished person. There is no greater purpose, nothing more beautifully expressed than a leaf through every season. To be part of this is a noble cause indeed. 

with this in mind we are free in our own expression, assured by both purpose and our beauty - we can never express ourselves wrongly, that are serving our own true and noble cause by virtue and simplicity of our being. It's already yoga, we are practicing it now with each breath taken, our every movement an expression of the divine. There is never a cause for us to doubt ourselves, to not take our form and beauty, our very lives, as functions of this greater yoga. 

we're yogis of a higher order.

already.

~

Peace, Eric 

Six Months

Six months;

yesterday marked six months since my father passed away, half a year measured by his absence - and yet his presence still fills my days in so many obvious and often deeply subtle ways. From the casual pass of happy memories, all the way to the more haunting days of his final care, I am shaped by every moment, that the person I am now is largely made of his influence and love. In the six months since his death I've reflected mostly on our last few months together, of the lessons he taught me through courage and example, most especially of the grace he showed by letting go of each physical loss without complaint, and yet demonstrating too the importance of being engaged and active with the time and people still present in his life. His was not a passive surrender, it was indeed the grace and courage of quiet acceptance through every circumstance that his final days offered, and all without sacrificing his deep appreciation of simply being alive, present, of being loved, and always giving love in return. 

six months sometimes doesn't feel like very long, not always, but sometimes it seems like forever since I had that purpose of caring so deeply for another, involved in the rituals of maintaining his well-being and waning strength, and being concerned with the daily affairs of health, needs, and comfort. I miss every aspect of my father, from the strength of his years throughout my childhood to the last few days of his surrender. He always taught me through fine example. And I am fortunate to have learned the lessons that he offered, and how they still continue even now, six months after.

and I find myself in a time of my own surrender, letting go of  layers of a self that no longer serve in my best interest, embracing each moment through its every perceived loss with hopefully equal grace to what my father showed me. Six months, and now a day, soon stretched to my own remaining years, a lifetime ahead - and still his presence guides me, urging my surrender, as well as a commitment to be engaged, active, fulfilled through my involvement with every available moment, to be present, appreciative of all the love that's given, and offering my own love always in return. 

six months...and still I'm learning. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Best Answer

Best answer: 

it's the best answer that I know, at least for right now, and for me that's the nature of every insight, not that a truth has been given, but that just a bit of mystery has been revealed and offered for my translation and description. Any answer that I seem to have is for myself alone, an insight for and of my own unique perspective, and if shared at all should always be viewed as such. The universe is simply too vast to hold a single answer, mystery far too deep to ever be fully revealed. My honest best answer to any question concerning of matters of our true nature is always...

I don't know.

what I have, what we all have, from scientist to mystic, are temporary best answers, information gathered from inquiry and research, insights given from the keen edge of thought and silence. There is no final report on the nature of the universe, of how the world relates to the conscious mind, or even what it means to be alive, aware and why it's even so. They'll only by further speculation based upon a glimmer of the whole, a partial revelation that we're fortunate to somehow be given. But nothing that can be spoken of as a final truth, no ultimate understanding of ourselves, or the universe, as they seem a single mystery that continuously unfolds. 

and that's really my only understanding, my best answer, at least for right now, that mystery itself is awakening, expanding, and always coming to new terms within its own potentiality. They'll always be mystery, and as we're part of the very fabric of it's structure, we'll never completely know ourselves as anything but a mystery too. 

yet, we  now have an infinite nature to explore.

so nothing should be mistaken as final truth or understanding, no insight provides an end to mystery, nor unravels the secrets of a universal mind. Our every understanding is temporary, fragile in its explanation. There is always further to exploration, more secrets to be reveled, insights to be known and then surrendered. Our every best answer is simply, always...

we don't know.

~

Peace, Eric 

Aliveness

Aliveness: 

and right now I'm no longer really sure of any certain insight, revelation, or idea that at one time opened me to an entirely new understanding of who and what I really am - it's not that I dismiss any previous insight as being false and leading me astray from what seems true to me now, but that life doesn't hold any concept as a certainty, nothing is absolutely so from the point of mystery, and all I can ever truly know is my own sense of aliveness, of being aware for just this moment alone, with nothing sure and certain beyond this. I think this is why I'm drawn to early morning meditation, as well as to the inquiry of my own spacious nature that seems to happen spontaneously through the day. These moments of clear meditation and inquiry hold no philosophies for me to understand, there are no concepts of duality, nor beliefs of anything being separate and apart from me.

there's just life, happening.

aliveness.

of course this is always so, independent of a moments inquiry or mediation - yet I enjoy both for what they offer, and how it seems that this quiet acceptance of life spreads from that singular point of my attention to an underlying awareness that's existing all the time, always available, only waiting for my notice. It's all part of this aliveness, ordinary and at once miraculous, everything belonging precisely so, perfect, and that life could never be other than it is right now. Until it is, and then this too, whatever it is the moment now holds, is simply part of this aliveness. 

that's how life happens.

or so it seems to me, and my every previous insight and belief fits in perfectly with the moment of its revelation, a truth for that point alone and not meant to be anything other. There is no need to make a philosophy of any of this, to make any idea permanent in belief, certain. There is only this aliveness, dynamic, ongoing in mystery and its revelation. Even these words seek to turn it into an experience, something to be described and not absolutely lived right now. 

there is only, always, this aliveness.

~

Peace, Eric