Myself

myself a pattern - and somehow too intermingled as the world. That I am a collection of cells, molecules, particles and broken down further to nothing but the nothing that allows it all to be. Yet, in the midst of this I am distinct, my pattern belonging to the whole and unique as well, a gathered awareness brought to recognition. That's the mystery, that this motion is seemingly held in place for the illusion of a moment, let alone a lifetime. To ask why this is so is not the question, there's no inquiry to gain a true understanding - but to live with even the slightest notion of awe, to see that I am a pattern within an endless sweep of possibilities. It's enough to be aware that this so.

~
Peace,
Eric 

At Once

at once, and always certain in appearance - everything comes immediate to the moment, just as is, without the later doubt given through attention. This is our own book of Genesis, personal, written each instant for our senses - from seeming nothingness to what is, now, and always here in our awareness. And this somehow too includes our own existence, that we come to life in sudden form and sense of being, fully and intimately belonging as the whole. It's all a great mystery, and happening in a constant manner, each moment already here, and nothing required for this all to simply be. At once - and now the world is here. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

This Moment Brings Me Joy

it's what appears, and yet even as these words come to me - it isn't quite so either. To write is to always lag just a moment from what's true, thoughts come and in an instant they give way to another moment ready to be told. My joy is writing as close to now as possible, knowing the gift given is one delayed but still spontaneous in its first appearance. The sunrise described, the telling of a birds wing in its touch within sky, to even write of trees in their slow reach of branches - is to record a memory already slipped by. But my writing takes place now, my fingers against keyboards belong to the moment every bit the same as birds wing or branch's reach. Nothing really is out of time, a true belonging always, only, takes place now. I'm here, writing, and this moment brings me joy. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Somehow Found Aware

and that I am also space, and always motion - a current somehow found aware. This is life in broader sight, finding myself in a constant letting go of moments full of my participation. It's life in full play, giving beginnings and endings at once, and no point of separation between it all - just this flow of what's appearing, occurring always now. So I find myself in great mystery, this current of self and world in one aware sense of being - even now let go.

~

Peace,

Eric 

note - this is obviously not how things are...and yet.....

To Be This Demonstration

it's a demonstration of love - from these few words and their immediate acceptance on the page, to our own allowing grace of what life brings. It shows only this belonging. This is life without bias, a calm truth that simply carries on through all appearance and whatever may occur - and too our own demands and preferences are included in its hold. There is no point of separation here, not a force that's apart from us in anyway. Life itself is the reality of love. It all happens on its own, and our only role is to be this demonstration. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Constant Shift

appearing as, yet continuing too as mystery - how one thing lends itself in seamless fashion to the appearance of another, a birds wing giving itself subtle to air, a flowers grace belonging at once to earth, sky, and now the moment of my observation. Nothing is truly found apart from anything else, it's a trace of one existence in a constant shift of becoming. Through this, I find life with meaning, but not self assigned, not personal in effect, but only that my own life, even in times it feels petty and small, is from the whole clothe of existence, that I somehow came to be through no effort, nor will of my own, and continue in this lending process - my appearance doesn't cease at the limit of my hand, no more so than the flower framed by air. As mystery, I become new in some distinction, yes, a constant shift of one becoming. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Told a Moment After

it's not that life speaks in symbols and metaphors - but only that the immediacy of this is offered in translation to remember. The story always follow the living reality of the moment. Life is happening in full effect and we never step outside its current. Nothing is ever missed, and yet our later stories might tell us otherwise. Life happens now, and this moment brings me to keyboards, recording thoughts that already belong to past even as I type them. But still, right now, I am fully, simply, an expression of the moment, not removed by any means, nor at any point am I excluded. It all belongs, even my story of now, told a moment after. 

~

Peace,

Eric