Forgetting Self

Forgetting self: 

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

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

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

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

art is reality.

it's all emptiness in continuous creation...

and we're just a momentary expression given form. 

~

Peace, Eric