Oatmeal

Oatmeal

oatmeal is the essence my morning practice, it's preparation and then the enjoyment of my first meal. This is a mindful activity, yet more so, it's a ritual of gratitude, a deep appreciation of nourishment and flavor and all that has had to happen across the world to bring this meal to me. I take no aspect of this for granted, not the oats grown organically and with care, nor the blueberries and bananas packed with flavonoids and antioxidants. Flax seed, walnuts, and just a touch of cinnamon add to this and provide further nutriments for the healthy function of my body. Everything is noted, just a brief nod of thanks for what's been give to me right now, a meal that's been offered directly from the earth and meant to nourish and heal. 

yes, oatmeal essence of my morning practice. 

my breakfast is soon after meditation, my fast extended just a bit for yoga and writing, coffee enjoyed at my desk as I write and listen to the morning stir itself awake. I've long settled into this routine, every part enjoyable and suits my early mood. My fast used to be longer, the first meal put off until late afternoon and this extended time agreed with my body, with many benefits found from this refrain. But the past few years have brought some changes that have caused me to end my fast early, still a lengthy time and one that builds in anticipation for my first meal. 

what I've found is that so soon after meditation, still early, just before sunrise, and my mind retains the quietness of my sitting, a mindfulness that arrives quite naturally, easily. It takes no effort for gratitude to be offered now, it's a seamless moment of deep appreciation from waking to the preparation of first meal. and further even through the day. It's spontaneous, lovingly so, and happens quite frequently as I make breakfast, perhaps the combination of meditation and long fast prepare my heart to be open to this joy. And this is a true and real joy, soul deep in it's appreciation, extending past the preparation of my meal to all that made this moment possible. It fills the world. 

oatmeal is the essence of my morning practice, a manifestation of my joy. 

and it happens naturally on its own. 

~

Peace, Eric 

I Am

I am: 

it's a simple message, and yet also the highest teaching of yoga, Nisargadatta Maharaj urged all who came to see him, those seeking liberation or even just an ease of suffering, to stay with the I am presence, to not stray their way into another concept or take on a new idea of who they might believe they are. It's a clear teaching, putting an immediate end to seeking - I am that - and nothing beyond this has a reality separate of its own, everything belongs as presence. 

of course we could spend a lifetime coming to know this. 

or, 

we could relax exactly as we are right now, without need of any understanding other than that we're whole, complete, residing in our perfect identity already. I'm not sure we need anything more than Nisargadatta's message, to just realize this I am presence and then allow life to proceed its course. This isn't an attainment, it's not something to strive for through effort or methods. 

it's what we are. 

the thing is, everything I say here could be completely wrong, with every point argued by someone who clearly knows more than me. Yet nothing negates presence, my own message isn't words or an explanation told in prose. I'm not a teacher, not enlightened, or in anyway liberated from a life that holds no small degree of suffering and sorrow - 

but...I am. 

and it's this that I return to, easily so, this beingness, alive, aware, and unmistakable. Amazingly, this presence never fails me, always available, resting here for my every stray belief to return home. Truly, there is nothing that I really need to do - I am - and life proceeds from here. 

~

peace, Eric  

Internal Dialogue

Internal dialogue: 

there's a particular day I remember from my childhood, I recall sitting on a hill with a friend, enjoying the warmth and sun, without care or even thought to anything past this moment. It wasn't contentment, as that would involve a comparison of other moments, it was simply being joyful, alive, happy without any cause or reasons. I'm sure there were many such moments in my childhood, not having any true concerns or worries, innocent of internal dialogue to judge my world. 

just pure existence.

beingness. 

but what I remember most about this moment is the beginning of a process that was to be unrelenting for so many years after, a trigger pulled, and that somehow I would now possess a claim to every passing thought, my identity was born. It's a weirdly vivid memory, hearing a voice within my head and instantly claiming it as my own, that is who I am, and mostly, from that moment on, I believed myself to be the content of those thoughts, a certain innocence lost. I now possessed an internal dialogue, beliefs soon followed, stories told of how I wished the world would be, comparisons and judgement. Not instantly, all of this took time and developed through the course of years - but it all begin that moment of claiming a thought as my own, that first voice of a lasting dialogue. 

of course nothing really changed, beingness remained, there was always, only pure existence. Yet everything seemed different, there was truly an innocence lost, my world was now filled with commentary, not always bad, often comforting, but always with comparison as to how I thought everything should be, or with a wish for life to remain exactly to my comfort. 

my was life informed by this dialogue. 

and I believed most every thought. 

well, maybe not, because I remembered that moment the dialogue was born, more so, the innocence before remained with me, resurfaced from time to time, reminding me of that easiness of simply, joyfully being alive. That's what drew me to meditation, to self-inquiry, and a love for the deep silence of my nature. Nothing was ever really lost, just forgotten, misplaced by a lifetime of believing every passing thought as being truly my own. 

here's what's true - there is no actual thinker, no person separate from the world. There are thoughts, energy-clouds, passing through the blue sky nature of the mind. The internal dialogue happens, arising on its own, possessing no reality other than the story that it tells. It's not our voice, not really, and we don't need to believe it's every word, nor do anything to make it leave us. It's imaginary, a passing phantom, and once seen as so...

our innocence is remembered. 

~Peace, Eric 

Life is Poetry

Life is Poetry: 

usually it's the first few thoughts that occur to me as I near the keyboards, that's what I write about, nothing planned, and it's just a free flow of ideas until a theme begins to develop. I consider it all lyrical prose, poetry in the sense that I search for a natural rhythm of words, being most concerned with flow and phrases that have a certain beauty of their own. In someways I could say that this is channeled writing, directly from some inner source that calls for it's expression. My role is to simply show up each morning, willing to set my own agenda aside, listening, and writing the words that are so easily given. 

like right now, with these words, and still I have no idea on this will unfold. 

so it's about faith, trusting in a process that serves me daily and has done so for decades now. I know that words will appear, but I have to be ready to receive them, rituals performed. These aren't done with the purpose of invoking inspiration, not really, that's more the effect that seems to emerge from meditation, from my breathwork, and morning Sun Salutation - these are rituals done with no purpose other than the joy they provide completely on their own, nothing needs to be derived from their performance. 

yet truly, my morning is transformed. 

my entire life is poetry in a sense, a natural rhythm of stillness and motion, silence and ideas, and nothing's been none to achieve this. It's just how things flow, for all of us, and we only have to notice how life plays in themes of inspiration. Yes, sometimes, maybe often, there's sorrow, that we suffer loss and life will be a struggle. Life is poetry, it tells a story through these themes, and there is a rhythm present here too if only we take notice, being mindful of  the current story told. My morning ritual reminds me to listen to the theme that's playing through my life right now, it delivers words that help me express it, an aid to healing and finding joy within the present moment. 

no matter what theme is currently playing now. 

it's all poetry. 

and the first few thoughts that occur to me this morning...

remind me that it's so. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Single Cup

Single cup: 

it seems that my single cup of coffee each morning  has become a ritual of deep appreciation, a moment of gratitude for it's flavor and warmth and it's sure ability to wake me for the day ahead. Not too long ago I would drink several cups a day, each proceeding one being less beneficial and more of a habit of design, not a ritual but a craving for its constant stimulation. For several reasons it suited me to cut back, just that single cup, prepared right after my sun salutations, my day greeted proper, and then I'm ready for coffee and my early morning writing. It's with drinking less coffee that my awareness grows in consideration to what I have, knowing that it's a self imposed restriction and that I'm always free to drink more adds to my joy, it's this one that's been selected  for the ritual of morning and my attention is drawn to the taste that it offers, steam rising from the cup, and being best appreciated in mindful sips of pleasure. 

a single cup, so deeply enjoyed. 

and this cutback of a habit has caused me to examine other aspects of my life, things that have always escaped my attention, or have never been given their true notice and appreciation. I find that each morning seems to call for me to be grateful for one more action performed, adding my thanks to almost every task involved for the beginning of the day, my single cup of coffee now entwined as an event of deep joy to all that life offers. Truly, it feels as if my entire day expands from just one mindful moment, how everything connects in a magical, seamless order, unfolding in a display of mystery and wonder.

from a single cup of coffee, so deeply enjoyed...

my world expands. 

~

Peace, Eric 

My Practice

My practice: 

my practice is yoga, meditation, pranayama in set times of day as well as when needed. I have a dedicated health and fitness regime, follow a plant-based diet and consider myself vegan for ethical reasons. As well I make a point of spending time in nature, daily, walking and running along with simply pausing to allow the wind, trees, and sun to speak to be, to inspire and heal, informing me of my place within the natural world. My day is structured around these practices, one seamless to the next without much thought needed to their performance, not any longer, this is truly how my life flows. 

and yet done of this makes a difference. 

nor is it supposed to.

I've long since surrendered any notion of self improvement let alone enlightenment, what I practice is for the sake of joy and well-being I derive from the performance alone. It's enough for me to meditation, thinking the mantra, deeper levels of a quiet mind found, and then the creativity that's sparked by this silence. Yoga and breath work improve my overall health and fitness, I'm limber and strong, breathing easy with a low resting heart rate and blood pressure in the healthy range. My diet too gives me the satisfaction that my health isn't compromised by cruelty of factory farming. These are results, benefits, and yet the joy is found within the time of actual practice, appreciating the suppleness of stretching and the feel of life coursing through my body, or how the mantra seems to carry me to silence through the trail of its vibration. Nothing more has to come from this, enlightenment doesn't need to follow, my practice is simply for the joy of the moment alone. 

anything else is a bonus. 

so really,life is my practice, the things I do with purpose and intent, being mindful of actions without dwelling on how they might unfold or the direction they'll lead me. It all feels pretty seamless to me know, not a practice at all but just how my life flows, full of curiosity and wonder, immersed in mystery without any desire to seek or know a true and certain answer. It's enough to be alive, aware of this fragile moment and how it's changing even now, always now, and that whatever's present can be cherished only for its gift of motion and the realization that things will never be this exact display again. 

all the wisdom and insights ever needed are found within this moment. 

my practice is in simply being aware and alive. 

and it requires no practice at all. 

~

Peace,Eric

A Joyful Participant

A joyful participant: 

to let the theme appear, easily so, and not assert my will upon the page - that's generally how I approach my morning writing, dismissing most impulses that first rise to my mind, settling, and seeing what emerges from this field of always present silence. My best writing seldom feels like my own, meaning that I can make no claim for its inspired flow of words. Really, it happens on its own, I'm a joyful participant, receiving words from wherever they were held before and only later do I get for my role. As an author, I'm simply a conduit for the play of words and how inspiration wishes they unfold. 

this is mostly how my life seems to go, being a joyful participant, allowing a theme to appear and working with whats been given to me now. Yes, it might be a thread of sorrow, or to find myself suffering through a longer bout of depression - yet still I'll say that I'm a joyful participant through it all, not overtly so, my celebration is within the act of simply being alive and having this once only opportunity to be expressed exactly so, understanding that everything is changing and will never again be as they are right now. My joy is within being expressed, this unique pattern of my existence, and with a bittersweet knowing of how brief this appearance is, temporary in all but the motion of its change. 

so I let the words arrive to me, just the right way, no effort to be clever or insightful, no need to apply myself to any serious pursuit of ideas. I'm a joyful participant here, and the entire process flows completely through my morning, no aspect being separate from another, a sip of coffee just as inspired as first word, everything emerging from the same source of mystery. 

even my claim to be the author. 

~

Peace, Eric