No More So Than Pen Or Keyboard

brought here - or perhaps more apt, simply appearing from their unknown source. These very words are without a writer as their origin, nor are they channeled from somewhere other. They appear, I arrange them in a given order, a vital role for their appearance to the page, yet as well no more so than pen or keyboard. 

It all just happens. 

A mystery. 

And there's nothing more to know. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Yet Always, Presence Only

it's not that we meet - at no point is there lost ground between us, and even to hint of a continuation is to imply that somewhere we leave off and there's room for another to begin. There is presence, only, and a distinction in its flow that appears as you, and a ripple again that seems as me. Yet always, presence only. 

There is nowhere in this that we could meet, or continue, or be anything other than the mystery of this whole - appearing as each other. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

To Only Hold Listening

of a sudden, I find myself soundless - a chamber given to the

music of the world, empty, allowing the moment to

hold only listening. 

and it later comes to me that every note that's 

once been made - has played through

this very same awareness. 

perhaps there has always been this 

listening....

~

Peace,

Eric 

Given To Their Flight

within this view - I am no less the single bird 

found as I am the entire flock touched

against the sky, 

and too I am the grace of air given to

their flight.

there is nothing see to tell me otherwise

~

Peace,

Eric 

Cosmos And Chaos Both In Completion

let's just sit for right now, this one moment - if we insist on noting attention in a mindful matter, let's start with the breath, on its own it functions to bring life, no effort of our own needed. We're just sitting, and here we find a perfect state of allowance. Our heart is beating, the brain commands countless performances, cells begin the moment another ceases - and we're just sitting here in our own, a universe of motion within the play of larger fields unknown to us. 

We're a mystery. 

There is no effort needed to simply be, to prove our existence, or even sit in a mindful manner. It all happens. In fact - a more truthful statement is that we happen, we're an event of infinite proportions and consequence. What happens while we sit is no less than the turning of the world, cosmos and chaos both in completion, and at no point are we apart from this or make it happen.

It's all a mystery. 

And it's happening right now. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Even The Thought Of Me

it was the discovery of nothing, my own revelation of empty presence that brought me to find myself as well in every detail of the world. To see that there was no fixed identity of self, only motion lending itself to the appearance of form, was the realization that at no point did I cease as motion and the world become solid. It was all one constant becoming, a shift of temporary appearances of the one holy thing that made it all. I was empty of self for this to be - and even the fragile identity that I once claimed to be was found to be a perfect expression of the whole. In this nothing, everything was, everything is, and it all belongs - even the thought of me. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Terrain

and now, even more - I find that I am the terrain that seems to be experienced from both ends of the view. There is first and always the open ended side, a clear capacity that only seeks to hold, to expand itself for the contents of the world to be. This - my spacious nature, and in my own truth this seems more a template for experiences to be played out, a terrain lacking any distinctions of it on save the awareness that it offers. Then too there is the view that draws me to the world, a stretch of self that reaches on to sun and stars - I am no less this than the emptiness of it's allowance. Perhaps what I am, what I find myself as - is terrain, both form and formlessness, awake to its own existence. 

~

Peace,

Eric