Preference

Preference: 

my preference is the mantra and it's easy, ever more subtle vibration that seems lead me to a deeper stillness - and yet thoughts occur, my attention drawn to other sounds, and the mantra will sometimes go unnoticed for a certain length of time. But I gently return to the preference of the mantra, again giving it my present favor, no effort to correct the mind of it's activities, just easily coming back to the mantra in its own natural pattern and rhythm, whatever pace it seeks to hold. 

and that's my meditation...simply a preference for the mantra.

it's often believed that meditation is a rarefied position, one held without thought, and that only monks and yogi's ever achieve a complete sense of stillness. But the truth is that the mind is given to motion, spacious and allowing, and thoughts are always passing. That's the nature of the mind - and the goal of meditation, if there really is a goal, isn't to bypass this nature but to simply notice how thoughts belong as motion, never static, and that with their passing there remains an every present silence that allows for their existence. That's the deeper nature of the mind, silence, restful by its very presence, and no effort is ever required to reach this, always being present as the reality of who we really are. 

quiet by our very nature.

the mantra is simply a subtle vibration, no meaning to the words, just a faint idea repeated with an easy and gentle attention given to it, and with no attachment nor concern as it plays throughout the mind. It only has our preference, belonging as a seamless flow of thoughts, mantra, silence, however it is the sequence will unfold - until we find ourselves in the depth of a stillness lasting for uncountable moment, timeless, simply resting as existence. 

that's not the goal of meditation though, not really, in truth there isn't an expected outcome, everything simply happening on its own, an easy path without direction, nor any destination. We're already home, we've arrived here having found that we've never actually left at all. Meditation is just sitting, but also allowing ourselves the preference of the mantra, lending ourselves to its vibration, and seeing how life flows as one continuous, seamless moment, well beyond the private world of our concerns. 

my preference is the mantra, but every thought is now allowed, whatever seeming distraction that occurs, it all belongs within this seamless, continuous moment, everything does. 

and that's my meditation. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Almost Always

almost always I find myself eager to write, every morning, just after sitting in meditation and then with coffee at hand and the sun just hinting at the start of day, ideas begin to form, words gather in phrase and theme - and the energy of writing then takes over. It's that easy really, with little stress and absolutely no strain involved within this process.  Words either flow or I sit and wait for their appearance, patient, knowing how this all unfolds. And yet almost always I find myself enthralled by the mystery of it all, that words will appear isn't ever in doubt, not really, but I never truly have a firm idea of where they might be leading, what their message is about, and their story will be told in final. 

everything I write is mystery.

almost always. 

it's better this way, for me at least, as once I struggled with ideas, demanding inspiration show on schedule and immediately meet all of my creative needs. Almost always I was disappointed. Inspiration doesn't seem to care for my demands, beauty unresponsive to my call, and I was unwilling to humble myself in waiting, believing any talent in writing was my own and not simply a gift that somehow shows itself in a flow of words. Of course I was an unhappy writer, as anyone who claims such a title is when there's a failure of words to appear. 

writer's write.

it's that simple. 

and it's just a temporary title, really, calling myself a writer, truly only belonging to the moment that words are given, and most often I am better related to the silence that precedes each word, existing still and always after they unfold. No label is the reality of experience, none, and it was this discovery that freed me to receive inspiration when it showed and not make demands for its appearance. Almost always I'm rewarded by humbling myself of any title and the hubris that surrounds such small concerns. I'm not really a writer at all it seems, but I'm deeply, intimately, involved in the process of writing. 

really, I'm simply part of the mystery that unfold each morning, essential as that first hint of sun and freshly brewed coffee. I am the ritual of a momentary expression, almost always aware now of where I most truly belong. 

it's a beautiful place to find myself.

here, 

unfolding as the morning's mystery...

~

Peace, Eric 

My Own Sense

My own sense: 

my own sense is that consciousness is all there is, everything. It's not that the universe itself is conscious,  as that would imply even a slight degree of separation, but that consciousness is expressing itself as the universe - a subtle yet important detail. This isn't quite panpsychism, which holds the view that mind is a built in feature of reality, consciousness infused, and that there is some sort of interaction between matter and the non-material stuff of the mind. I like that idea too, but it's not the sense I get as my own thoughts quiet and the universe seems to open itself as my own seamless state of being. 

all I know is consciousness. 

of course I could be wrong, it could really just be the byproduct of a chemical reaction occurring in my brain, or perhaps the universe is only a simulation written in code by some higher intelligence and we're living in a fiction of a world. My insights provide no absolute truth to anything, just a sense, a faint idea that holds itself as a possibility of how things are. I'm not invested in any belief, and my very next insight could prove that my every last thoughts is completely wrong. 

my own sense is that I'm aware, happily so, and that through this awareness I'm intimately involved with the world, a deep belonging that defies description even as it's expressed through every aspect of my existence. That's my only true philosophy, life being easily expressed, and that I'm somehow gifted with the awareness of how rare this possibility of existence may actually be, perhaps vanishing in the very next instant, and that this moment itself is all there is for me to cherish and adore. 

perhaps.

but again, anything outside of actual living is all speculation - at least that's my own sense, even as insights steer me towards new ideas to ponder and explore. 

my own sense...only hints at possibilities. 

~

Peace, Eric 

More So

More so: 

more so, it's of fulfillment, not of wishes and desires come true, but of our own realized sense of what we really are - that through some means of inquiry we arrive first to an inherent emptiness of self, an absence of any true individual found separate from the world. It's then through continued seeing that we come to know ourselves more so as capacity, not truly empty at all, but a spaciousness that allows for the appearance of life in every form. 

capacity serving for the fulfillment of the world. 

this is the realization of the Buddhist Heart Sutra in the actuality of its expression, life, the understanding of who we really are. There is no purpose here other than simply being, that's it, and yet this is a truly noble, selfless cause, one of continuously accepting life through its every twist and turn, whatever appearance wishes to be shown - we serve it all through out capacity to allow. 

and more so, we express it all as love. 

of course this is just one representation, an inspiration really, and not meant to be accurate in its portrayal, as reality itself is far too seamless to ever truly be told. Words are only pointers and we take them at the value of their description, their true worth is of beauty, ornaments arranged in such a way as to give pause and consideration to the emptiness that allows for their appearance. Everything written is a Heart Sutra in its way, beginning with emptiness, the capacity of page and mind to come to be fulfilled by ideas and then expressed as words. 

it's all an act of inspiration. 

more so, it's simply life, reality. 

and that we are capacity serving for the fulfillment of the world. 

~

Peace, Eric 

   

So Subtle

So subtle: 

and at some point even the mantra grows so subtle in thought that it seems to vanish completely on it's own, leaving only a spacious, open awareness that claims itself as my true and ancient presence. This is who I really am, at least for this moment, right now, without the sway of thought and a world that offers constant information. I am simply the capacity that's found present when everything grows silent, calm, and in this way I serve in an inspired sense for my own fulfillment too, this inherent emptiness allowing the creation of my world. 

to be lead here by the mantra....

or that's the way it seems, as really I am this capacity all along, and as the mantra grows so subtle in thought, vanishing at some point, this spaciousness is just revealed as my true and seamless nature. Here, it's seen that thoughts belong in passing, a temporary reality given to their belief, and that my role as capacity itself remains unchanging, emptiness untouched by anything that passes.  

I am reveled through meditation.

as the mantra grows so subtle, a whisper, and then nothing, and I am vanished between thoughts, spaciousness revealed and found seamless in its hold. Nothing is denied here, everything is allowed its place and length of stay, meditation isn't the absence of thought but only the notice of their passing, the weightless reality of their existence. As the mantra grows so subtle...it's all revealed here, the absolute in essence, silence being my one and true home. 

and I am lead here through the mantra, so subtle in thought, whispered, and then let go to the deep silence that always follows. I am revealed, not really due to meditation, nor the repetition of the mantra, but by my own eventual surrender, a spontaneous letting go that only seems to follow to the whisper of the mantra, so subtle now...

until only silence known. 

~

Peace, Eric 

First Few Words

First few words:

it's usually in the first few words that I know, as inspiration begins to lend itself to a theme, and writing takes on a certain energetic flow that leads on the way to a better understanding of my role today. Each morning is different, always, and I am never quite the same writer as the one who was inspired yesterday, a subtle difference in my approach to words, yet always with the same reverence for their arrival. The first few words inform me of the writer I am today, urging me to let go of any expectations of how this time should go, asking that I bring a quality of softness to my listening, allowing the silence between words to actually guide me through my morning writing and not rush to fill this holy pause. 

in this way, writing is really more a form of prayer.

a sacred conversation between myself and inspiration.

and the first few words reflect this.

usually, at least, as sometimes I take this process for granted, bringing expectation to my writing that simply don't belong to the morning's inspiration. Two things inform me of the writer that I will become each morning, one is the quality of my listening and the other is always the first few words that follow. There is never a rush for this to happen, or st least there shouldn't be, as this is a process well beyond my role as a writer, belonging solely to the gift of inspiration. 

perhaps I should clarify that my view of prayer isn't one of asking to receive anything that doesn't already belong directly to the moment. I am not requesting words to fill a place of silence but only for their revelation to be written. The first few words already exist through inspiration, they are gifted without any need of asking. 

my only role is to listen...

and the first few words inform me of the writer I will be each morning. 

~

Peace, Eric

Argument

Argument: 

the argument is usually of the origin of consciousness as well as its lasting value after death - are we consciousness beings of a limited span, made of material that somehow gives rise to our awareness of the world? Or does consciousness precede our particular lifespan, with the universe itself being the basis of our awareness and one true existence? It's a valid argument of the ages and up to this point no one seems to know for sure, materialism still holding sway in science and even many philosophies, while mystics and seers mostly hold the view that everything is an expression of pure consciousness. Of course it's not always a line drawn so clearly between two (or more, really) camps - quantum physics is weird enough in its description of reality to offer explanations that seem to sometimes merge the two ideas, as if physicist are modern day mystics that have a keener insight into the nature of reality than ever before and offer a marriage of sorts between materialism and one that also includes a bit more idealism. Sometimes too it's the other way around, with materialism being less involved in any explanation. 

it's an interesting argument that's made its way to certain spiritual circles, a nonduality crowd that insists that consciousness is one and all, a never ending process of our existence, and those who hold a similar view of many scientist, based on materialism, and that we are finite beings that somehow gained a sense of awareness from a chance arrangement of matter, limited in our time and existence. The truth is that we simply don't know anything for certain, no argument made clear, and even the best educated guess is still a fore-way into mystery.

consciousness is all.

that's it.

my only argument.

and it's easy for me to say this as it's the only way I ever experience the world, there's no argument otherwise and I have no idea if there's anything other than what I'm aware of right now. I'm aware, alive, and continuously astonished that's it's so. If this is a finite experience, a one and done existence, than how much more a miracle to find myself gifted with life and the opportunity to know this. If I'm an infinite expression of pure consciousness than everything belongs exactly as it's found, no need to argue for things to be other than they are. 

it's the perfect arrangement of mystery. 

I simply don't know.

and live with live without the argument that I do. 

~

Peace, Eric