Through This

Through this: 

to show myself as capacity, open, and through this spaciousness my world appears - that's really the essence of my practice now, not to find anything that isn't already present, but to simply rest in this awareness, being more of a reminder that everything belongs completely as it is right now without need of change or even notice. 

it's seeing myself as this allowing space,

and through this my world appears. 

this is the end of all debate for me, there is nothing here to prove as being absolutely true, nor is there any false evidence to dismiss. There no point of using language to argue for or against what's found. It would only a description of what really isn't so. 

everything is...exactly as it is.

appearance,

appearing

and all through this...whatever it is... giving space for this to happen, capacity being just a word for the sake of my convenience. Really, it's far too dynamic for words, defying description, a verb often seeming as a noun, reality always in the motion of appearing through the very absence it allows. It's not a paradox, it's life, and only confusing through language. 

it's happening right now.

so my practice is to see this, noting first my own absence, capacity found, and through this my seamless reemergence, immediate in appearance, always happening right now. Really, it's not through this at all, capacity not being separate from its hold, again it's a failure of language, a description of a seamless action that's far too beautiful to accurately be told. 

yet I am always witness to it, 

a participant,

capacity.

and through this, as this...my world appears. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Just Listening

Just listening: 

meditation, writing, the two seem rather seamless to me now, and most especially the early morning session, before even a hint of first light, an easy rise from bed to mat where my mantra will lead me to a deeper silence than even sleep just held. It's through this continued silence that words will then appear, almost drifting in their arrival, my meditation now is at my desk, artfully arranging each word gifted to my quiet mind. These are no longer separate acts, meditation and my writing, really, it's all just listening, attentive to mantra, the soft appearance of words, and the silence found throughout.

it's just listening.

the art of mantra is to simply listen to however it plays through the mind, it's agenda is to lead towards a natural silent world, already existing and only waiting to be revealed. There is no effort given here, no sense of need for the mantra to be controlled in anyway. It's a thought, a faint impression that's more vibration than a string of separate words. 

writing too is just listening, although it seems I play a more active role - but the truth is that there is no search for words, no attempt to actually be a writer. Words appear, and before they do I sit with silence, more than content, it's a joyful listening of an inner world of pure potentiality, the primordial ground where words eventually arrive, and completely of their own accord. 

only then will there be writing. 

and that's my morning, a moment full of silence and whatever sounds it may holds, seamless. Meditation, writing, they're similar to the point of being one expression, unique in method, and yet the end result is much the same...

it's just listening....

and through this silence my world arises. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Nagarjuna's World

Nagarjuna's world: 

existing in Nagarjuna's world, which too implies my non-existence as a self with any lasting value, that ultimately it's emptiness serving for the grace of my appearance, and that neither emptiness nor form would be possible without the other, both being seamless in the nature of their trade. This is the relativity that describes it all, allowing no debate on the essence of what's true, seeing contrast alone as the reality of my existence. 

that I am - is only through emptiness. 

and that emptiness only has value through its capacity as form.

...seamless in Nagarjuna's world.

of course this is just a description, not being true at all, a philosophy, and equally so it's exactly how things are, that it's true, but only in the moment that it's told. Welcome to Nagarjuna's world, paradox being gracefully accepted, everything being relative by it's measure. Nothing is denied here, emptiness doesn't negate the reality of appearance, my claim as a momentary self will not disturb the capacity of my existence. 

that I am - is only possible through relation.

or so it seems.

but really, it's just a great mystery, my life isn't understood at all, I exist in Nagarjuna's world, a brief appearance, eternal, being both emptiness as well as the appearance of form. Life. And perhaps it's best to simply see myself as motion, an exchange of vast and finite expressions, existing, not existing, and that it's all equal in my view. In meditation this is where my mantra leaves me, everything being all at once, seamless, a trade of emptiness for meaning, capacity and its fulfillment of appearance.

Nagarjuna's world.

~

Peace, Eric 

* Nagarjuna was an Indian Mahayana Buddhist thinker who is widely considered one of the most important scholar, philosophers of Buddhist history and many of today's physicist are viewing his thoughts in the value of their present work.   

Noticed

Noticed: 

just quiet, with the few thoughts that appear being softer in their tone, lighter, and the entire moment being more spacious in it's hold. There is no real goal of meditation, no destination to be reached, it's not a pursuit of any particular state of mind - and yet I cherish the stillness when it's eventually noticed, not found, but more that it's revealed as always here, available, and the mantra gently led me through the currents of my mind to the reality of its presence. 

and it's always a surprise.

that's meditation for me, a gentle surprise of stillness and wonder, that my own mind is capacity for such infinite silence as to hold the potential for a lifetime of thoughts to appear. It's also what's eventually noticed, each thought momentarily existing in that present field of silence, and that it's the stillness that eventually remains, thoughts passing through but never truly lasting. 

meditation is my moment to notice everything that passes...

and all that remains.

somehow, that it's just noticed, acknowledged and released with curiosity and wonder, it has a profound effect on me - to know that I posses this quiet reserve within me, a backdrop of always present silence that allows my every thought to be, that I am more spacious than ever previously believed. For this to be noticed, even briefly, changes the very nature of my day. I am somehow more at ease with who I am, less concerned with passing thoughts and more rooted in silence noticed. This all happens without force nor any means of concentration, no effort really, it's not mindfulness, but a revelation brought by mantra, a vibrational thought that drops me directly in the present moment reality of my silent mind. What's noticed is that I'm always here, somehow existing through a thought-filled world and at once an ever present stillness. 

being witness to the miracle of simply being...

noticed.

~

Peace, Eric 

Intent And Inspiration

Intent and inspiration: 

generally, I don't know what I'm going to write about until I begin the process of writing, allowing the subject and theme of words to unfold with surprise and mystery, no longer feeling the need to dictate how things flow. Words always appear, somehow, and writing seems to happen without any true effort of my own. I don't make any great claim of inspiration here, it's much more subtle than that, as if it's as easy as the breath, natural, an intent of function that words best with little interference from my actions. My best writing, at least as much as I can truly claim, happens through intent and inspiration and neither of these are qualities invoked through mind nor effort - it's more of an invitation to join myself with their flow, a surrender to the writing process, and that I am essential to the task at hand. 

and just like that these words appear.

long ago, another writing life altogether, there would often be a struggle for words, a desire for greatness with every sentence, and not feeling settled until a project was complete and met with the highest satisfaction. Writing was something I had to do and would be brought about through force of will if need be. There was no surrender to this process. Of course this is the antithesis of both intent and inspiration, actually blocking their invitation to the joyfulness of writing. 

intent and inspiration are qualities of air, breathed without effort and released to their own actions - I am simply a function of their process, an appearance too, showing up to aid in their expression. I've learned to write on their demand and not my own, listening to their urge of words and silence, trusting the entire process and it's to this that I surrender. 

in reality intent and inspiration are of one nature, not separate qualities but aspects of creation, an essential universal function, always readily available to be known. The great realization is that we are part of this creation, essential too to the entire process. We are inspired in our appearance to the world, and blessed with the intent to simply be expressed in such unique and beautiful fashion. All of this without any true effort of our own. 

like words...

we simply happen.

~

Peace, Eric 

Consciousness Itself

Consciousness itself: 

there's only a few themes that I write of, really maybe only one, consciousness, and much like the subject itself, there's infinite means of its expression. I never tire of writing on this matter, always someway inspired to just sit and listen, allowing the subtle voice heard just before dawn to speak to me through silence and birdsong, wind and rainfall, whatever it is that needs to be told each morning. My writing is simply an extension of this, no matter what theme, or subject it seems to be - it's always, consciousness itself speaking through me. 

only this.

it could just as easily be called awareness, or life, even God for that matter, it all being the same to me, and there's no labels involved in the actual listening. When I hear a song note from the first call of a bird outside my window it's the seamless sound of morning, consciousness itself, and only differentiated by any thoughts that follow after. At first listen, there's just the morning speaking through the various means of its expression, and if I'm quiet enough, listening, I become involved in conversation, belonging as truly as a birdsong, seamless too in my expression. 

consciousness itself...

speaking,

listening,

writing. 

so this is what I write of, or perhaps it's better said that this is what's expressed here, consciousness itself being the entire act of listening, inspiration, and writing. It's a seamless act, everything, from silence to first note of morning birdsong, and my listening is intimately involved in its belonging. No matter what seems the subject, it's consciousness itself speaking through the appearance of a writer. I'm simply part of it all, subject matter too...

even as I'm writing. 

~

Peace, Eric 

It All Just Happens

It all just happens: 

that it all just happens, everything, life, and without our effort or involvement to make it so - yet at some point we insist on taking credit for how certain things unfold, sometimes blaming others for their involvement when our plans go array, and believing ourselves to somehow have control on the circumstances and direction of our lives. We love our own success stories, and what seems like failure is absolutely unacceptable for so many of us. We're raised to believe that life responds to our demands, and that we only have to try harder, work longer, and simply force life to meet our every need.  

but how much of this is ever really true?

neuroscience and mystics seem to agree on this matter, or at least on certain details, both stating that there is no central commander present to the mind, no actual self that controls our reaction to events and situations, that life happens and there comes a response and through this manner we navigate our lives. No one is ever really in charge, nor even close to being in control. 

it all just happens. 

this seems to scares some people, and for me it was a fear that eventually eased to relief, giving me cause to relax and explore my role within this process. My realization was that life wasn't happening to me, but that I was simply life...happening, a spontaneous appearance in this beautiful expression. I'm an event of infinite motion and response within a stream of ever larger events, endless, and it all just happens. No one is in charge for the simple and only reason that not one of us exists separately from the main event of life, we're all just momentary expressions of the whole, aspects, unique in voice and beauty.  

of course we think we're in control. 

a belief of self appears. 

that's just how it happens, it's the role we play through a portion of our lives, some for a longer time than others, perhaps a lifetime even, and it's never a matter of right or wrong. It's just how life happens, perfect in the sense that it really couldn't be any other way than it is right now, and that we continue on in motion, changing, an event happening now and always now. 

happening.

~

Peace, Eric