Taking Refuge

Taking refuge: 

taking refuge in a sound, a vibration really, just the faint idea of a thought given a moment of my attention and then immediately let go. That's meditation, my devotional practice, a repetition of a mantra in an easy flow of sound arising through an endless field of silence. The Buddhist tale refuge in the Three Jewels, the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha, which is recognizing the authority of the historical Buddha, his teaching, and the community that follows its practice. For me, taking refuge is a solitary practice, giving faith in the vibration of the mantra and even more so in its release, not calling for my constant attention but only for the moment that it's given thought, remembered, and that through this I find myself returned to my natural state of stillness, my refuge found. 

taking refuge is a momentary practice.

this appeals to my sense of simplicity as well as my solitary nature, although I do appreciate the support offered by a community that vales such a practice. But I find that overall I am better suited to a quiet lifestyle of few people, more books, and time spent in nature. Two, often three times a day I take refuge in my mantra, a Vedic meditation using a primordial sound, allowing it's vibration to gently lead my thoughts to settle, and through this easy practice I find myself at deep rest, relaxed, surrounded and at home within an infinite sense of silence. 

taking refuge is just returning home.

 it's the mantra itself that offers refuge, not the whole practice, but the vibration alone, the instance of sound matching itself to silence, merging qualities, until again a seamless whole. Each thought of the mantra offers this return and that's what I consider it a devotional practice, to simply appreciation the quality of this sound, its vibration, and allowing it to be the means of an inner transformation, from thought-filled to a truly quiet place of mind. I am devoted to just the moment of its utterance, a thought, and nothing more required. 

everything else happens completely on its own. 

it's my way of taking refuge. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Self -created Fiction

Self-created fiction: 

we tell ourselves stories, and we believe the stories told to us by our parents and trusted authority figures, an image of the world inherited before we've even begun to form opinion. That's the reality we live in and it isn't even truly ours, it belongs to those who've come before and formed a history passed down to us, and to this we add our own beliefs and self-created fiction. 

of course none of it's true, a story is never the reality of any present situation. 

and none of this is wrong either, it's just the way we've come to navigate the world, stories told to make life a little easier to handle. Our parents and teachers wish us safe and to have a better life than those  before, their stories are meant to inform and provide a backdrop of knowledge for children to explore the world and thrive in life. Yet it's also a trap, our vision is now tainted by the beliefs of others and our own stories are shaped by past opinions. 

even our self-created fiction is plagiarized from others. 

and in this way the world continues much the way it has before. 

so our stories can serve and yet they also imprison - it seems a trap, an endless loop of self-created fiction that keeps us from truly living a life fully realized completely on our own. Except that every moment is the bare essence of reality, story free, allowing us to be alive right now, aware, and engaged intimately with our surroundings. Here, now. there is no self to create a story, that all comes after, following the raw experience of each moment. Now, exists as completely freedom, and is always without a self or story, just one inseparable event of intimacy and love expressed. Yes, this too is really a story, my words given description to what is absolutely indescribable and can only be experienced. But it's happening right now and doesn't need by story, that's only for my own benefit of writing and a wish to share by way of words. What I write doesn't have to be true, the experience itself is available right now, always right now, and only requires us to notice. 

and really,

we don't even have to notice.

life continues without story, 

regardless. 

~

Peace, Eric 

To Leave The Page Alone

To leave the page alone: 

sometimes there's a temptation to leave the page alone, unmarked, allowing emptiness to remain pristine for just this day. It often seems that there's already a poem here, perfect in its display, and any word I leave will only mar the appearance of the page, adding my own definition to what's better left unsaid. Of course I always bring myself to write, hoping to add something of beauty, perhaps with some deep meaning left behind, and at the very least to have fulfilled my sense of purpose. 

a writer...writes. 

the truth is that a writer always works with emptiness, befriends it, knowing so well of its infinite potential to hold every word and phrase and never being close to filled. Emptiness is a writer's own spacious nature matched against the page, and a gifted poet knows to weave words through this holy space, honoring it sparsely, never tempted to leave anything more than just the briefest meaning. 

so even with the temptation to leave the page alone - I know that I've been invited here, called to write, and that my words are only temporary in their appearance. Emptiness always remains, being ever present, lending itself to suit my need of purpose, and expanding to hold my every thought and word. My words make little difference, they're not meant to add meaning here, but to only briefly be displayed, and perhaps offer contrast to the primordial nature of the page. That's the only role of beauty, not to last, being seasonal in a sense, and that's it very appearance is just a momentary gift from emptiness. 

to leave the page alone...

and really this was never truly an option, writer's write, accepting emptiness as a gift and leaving words behind, arranged in hopeful beauty, prayer like, honoring the holiness of this opportunity to fulfill their sense of purpose. 

writer's...write. 

it's why we were invited here. 

~

Peace, Eric 

How Simple Things Are

How simple things are: 

finishing up a book on string theory right now, and as almost always when I complete such a book I contemplate how little of it I actually comprehended, quantum physics being so far over my head in most of its concerns that I only glean a faint idea of what's been read. Yet for some reason I'm drawn to this subject, inspired even, and through it's complexities I'm surprised at how simple things are. Physics is the deep explanation of life, a description of the universe at large and through the infinitely small. But what amazes me is that we are presently, right now, living this description, an expression of the Big Bang being shown through even aspect of our lives, that at this very moment we are a swirl of particles somehow defined through the vastness of a void. 

physics explains God.

of course not by using such a word, and not in the belief of any supreme creator having a master plan, but our existence is explained, our arrival from a field of complete emptiness to a vast and complex universe. That's the role of God if we were to give it all a single title. Or if one was really needed. And what science does is no less than explain miracles - again examining all the known complexities and being amazed at how simple things are, the ease of which I take a breath, how perfectly my body functions, and the seamless way I exist within the world, belonging to a system that includes each single detail that gives cause for the universe to continue on. 

all this through no effort of our own.

it's amazing how simple things are. 

there was a statement in the book that surprised and intrigued me, basically saying that as yet, science doesn't know the real world implications of string theory, how it effects our daily reality. And of course it's pretty simply really -  we are the examples of continued vibrations, existing within a universe created by quivers of strings within an energetic structure. We exist as real world implications of string theory, vibrations within a universal mind, God, if you will. We are an essential and seamless part of this complex system. 

God particles, each of us.

and yet how simple things are too, that we exist in such a spontaneous and effortless fashion, finding ourselves suddenly aware and being alive within this complex world...and all we have to do is breathe, allowing our hearts to beat their own easy rhythm, a natural participation of this universal order. It's all physics, everything a vibration without need of explanation. 

simple, really.

~

Peace, Eric 

Original Source

Original source: 

the first cause argument in theology is that everything is traced back to God through effect after effect, that there is an original source found without having any cause at all, simply having always been and being sole reason for existence. This even lends itself to every scientific discovery, giving God credit for everything from the Big Bang through evolution and every other great discovery and advancement. I'm not going to say otherwise, although religion holds no personal answers for me, it remains a theory worthy of consideration, for some at least. 

of course the original source has yet to be explained.

personally, I see the universe as an endless loop, infinite cause and effect without a true beginning and end, just a continuous expression of one thing only in various stages of creation. This holds close to the Upanishads description of cycles of creation and destruction, the universe in repetition of itself for reasons of its own cosmic evolution. I never quite buy the evolution aspect of this theory and always give first and only cause to joy - that the universe self-creates for the point of it's joyful becoming and that destruction is simply the means of a new beginning. 

but it's all speculation, really.

there's no reason for me to believe anything.

for me it's just the curiosity through the act of writing, my own cosmology of another empty page that lends itself to my fulfillment as a writer. It's another endless loop, with each morning's page presenting itself again as the original source for every idea and inspiration to be expressed. I have no idea the first cause of this endeavor, but again I give it's reason to the sake of joy. It all seems, to me at least, to circle back to love, that the universe is written into existence by the ineffable hand of love, original source of every inspiration, and always the cause for another story to be written.   

that's my own cosmology.

my endless loop.

and only original source. 

~

Peace, Eric  

To Consider

To consider: 

it's amazing to consider the infinite number of things that have to take place in an exact and perfect manner for life to be as it is right now. I'm almost at a lost to even begin a description, starting with the body and I'm immediately overwhelmed by it's cohesion, each cell working in individual function and yet somehow an entire body occurs. The body is a truly incredible instrument to consider, and yet those cells that work so hard to provide us form are made of molecules, broken down further still and we arrive to an arrangement of atoms. To think of the body, really breaking it down to every level for consideration, and we come to those very basic building blocks of reality, our debt and gratitude should then extend to the particles that give cause for the existence of atoms, protons and neutrons sitting central while electrons swirl about them. This too is what we are, from cell to particle is our consideration, an amazing arrangement of infinite things that give rise to who we are. 

 but then and even more amazing still...

we find that particles exists as waves, not points really, nothing of substance that adds together for the accumulation of form - atoms mostly consist of fields, nothing really, simply potentiality for our consideration. It seems that finally we are no more than faint ideas, a thought that somehow gains vibrations and continues through these possible channels to eventually be a cell. Just one cell. And infinite times more and there's a body, a mind, coherence between the two. 

so what we truly are is a possibility. 

somehow made so. 

it's amazing to consider. 

~

Peace, Eric   

In The Woods

In the woods:

in the woods, always such a poetic phrase to me, implying so much with just it's utterance or first sight upon a page. Here, it tells me, is life, a gathering of trees that host a diversity of beingness, individual creatures and plants that really form a single entity of a living expression. I love being in the woods, even near, walking a path that cuts through its mystery yet never truly diminishes the secret that it holds. There is a feeling that I'm welcomed here, invited, but there's something holy invoked as well, as if I'm now returned to my own ancient homeland, birthplace of my soul, my DNA is found entwined from leaf to deepest root. In the woods is really where my soul belongs, whispering through the branches, joining in birdsong and the teeming sounds of varied life. 

a single entity, truly.

and the word woodland, as if it were two things that could never exist apart from each other, and a single word was needed to convey the intimacy of this connection. It's a beautiful word, invoking the essence of a true belonging, that trees have gathered at the bequest of land, soil rich for just this giving, and earth has gifted us a single expression...woodland...

so much beauty in a single word.

that's the true theme here, as my writing unfolds, and I catch a glimpse of what the woods are wishing me to see - that there is a singular intent of living, life, varied, but always an expression of just one thing alone, and that I am an intimate part of this as well, essential by grace and virtue of my appearance. I am never really in the woods, as that implies even a subtle sense of separation, more honestly it's better said that I am simply of the land, same as any tree, rooted deep and reached to the very touch of sky, being gifted too by earth. 

in the woods...such a beautiful phrase,

telling me I belong.

~

Peace, Eric