Mostly

mostly, I just surrender to the process, not planning any writing theme until I reach the page and then simply waiting for words to come, being surprised at what unfolds. It's joyful writing, but at times there's still a bit of apprehension, even after so many years of this surrender. In some ways it's certainly easier to have a plan, an outline of specific intent to start the writing off and provide a sense of direction. Yet even as I consider this I'm struck by how little control life actually provides me in any endeavor. 

indeed, mostly life is all a surrender.

really, it's mostly about faith. 

faith isn't a word I use often, it's not a reoccurring theme for me to write of - it's generally heard as a religious term, having faith in a higher power to guide our steps through life. I guess it's easier in a sense to turn control over to a source that is regarded as superior to us in every way, having faith that we are supported in every endeavor. At the same time, there's belief that we've been granted free will and that we determine our own destination. That's a curious paradox, never quite explained in many religious texts, but having struck closest to me in description by the Bhagavad Gita quote (2:47) "You have the right to work, but never to the fruit of work. You should never engage in action for the sake of reward, nor should you long for inaction." The Gita continues sage advice and urges us to consider that work done with anxiety is inferior to any task performed with calm and ease, that our actions are surrendered to Brahma alone and rewards are offered through his grace. 

this is a faith I understand. 

and mostly as I consider Brahma to simply be another term for life, a name given for the process of living, dynamic and continuous. It's what I surrender to, writing is the process of life being given my own unique expression, a flower's bloom for a certain moment on a sunlit page. My every expression is momentary, a chance occurrence of words and inspiration being met at my location, my only real talent being of timing and consistency of appearing daily to receive whatever words are offered. Yes, mostly, I surrender to the process of Brahma, writing for the sake of words themselves, serving their expression. It's a faith in which I understand completely, though still with some apprehension of it's everyday appearance. This too, it seems, is in process of surrender. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Return To Gratitude

and always I return to gratitude, a continuous practice of simply noticing all I have now even during, perhaps most especially during times of seeming loss and grief.  It's not a denial of the present moment of hurt, nor willfully forgetting any trace of pain. I return to gratitude as default mode, that I am grateful for the very breath that sustains me through these trying times, my heartbeat is a thankful prayer of my continuation, being able to grieve at all for what's been lost and having the strength to carry on. Again, it's only about what's noted, nothing forced, just a deep appreciation for all that's granted.

and indeed, the list is infinite.

it's a return to gratitude, or maybe better said a return to noticing life, of how I'm supported by an environment of conscious cooperation. I return only due to my forgetful nature, taking for granted the atmosphere for breath, a body that works wonders even as it ages, and that friends abound even through the loneliest times. Yes, sometimes these most vital things often fail to gain my notice, their light seemingly dimmed by my own view of darkness. 

but always I return.

this is why I call is a continuous practice, as life certainly contains its share of things to grieve for, people lost to death or relationships ending, health declines and the body ages. Life is quite often filled with pain and offers no escape from this reality. It's just how things are. Yet the paradox here is beauty, curiosity, and awe in contrast to all that's taken and lost, existing at once and seamlessly together through the endlessness of life's expression. There is always this, what I have now, light as well as darkness, beauty shown to me in such unique and curious ways, and I am constantly in awe of my surroundings. So much has been given to me, continues to be given, and I imagine my final breath is still a gift existing only for that moment. Through my forgetfulness, consumed by deepest grief and loss - this is what I return to, life, a paradox that even now so much is still given. 

always, I return to gratitude. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Greater Hush

Greater hush: 

even more quiet than usual now, fresh snow creates a greater hush to my early morning, only house sounds hum and creak, while outside lies in the stillness of winter. It's the perfect time to just sit and be as still as the morning too, allowing words to find me at their will, and otherwise I remain in silence. These moments seem rare, and perhaps they are, yet really this silence is an ever present condition, that I always contain the stillness of an early winter morning. 

it's just seldom that I notice. 

what I most love about noticing these times are the blended moments of stillness and sound, how the quiet simply parts to allow something to be heard, and just as easily returns to it's silent hold of the world. It's as if true silence can't and won't be disturbed, every sound is allowed its moment, cushioned by that greater hush of magic that's ever present to these early mornings. But still it's a fragile time, never meant to last through the gathering activities of the morning, the world awakening in sound and busyness, becoming too much for the greater hush to hold. 

and yet in a way it does, it remains in such a way as to be present for the following morning, for the next snow that helps cushion every sound. In truth it's my own internal silence that's found these early mornings, noticed and nurtured through awareness to the point that stillness gains the prominence of my attention, a reality all it's own and every sound arrives briefly as a visit. Stillness is my true home, and the magic of this greater hush being my real and only nature. 

silence remains, always, sounds emerge from and fade within its existence. So often I forget this as the day increases in volume and the faster events of daily sounds. It seems the busy day gains the edge of this advantage, silence being a rare occurrence. Even now, still so early in the morning and my quiet world seems shattered, my own greater hush is gone, it's magic dissipated in the cold winter air. But I remind myself that stillness itself does not recede, remaining present in its hold of every sound. It's still a time of magic, perhaps even more so now, a reminder of my own interior silence, the reality of my greater hush still and always present. 

waiting only for my notice. 

~

Peace, Eric  

Things Grateful For

Things grateful for: 

life is a display of things grateful for as well as those that gain our disillusionment, receive our harshest judgement, or fail to even reach the point of our attention. Often there's a change between these views in a single notice, consciousness shifts to sudden appreciation for something long ignored as if seen in new light, or we lose a sense of gratitude for a person no longer seen in vital role of purpose. This can happen without us even knowing it occurred all, that gratefulness itself no longer serves an essential role to our daily concerns. 

we take so much for granted.

yet to be thankful, our conscious awareness of things grateful for, is such a lovely practice. It's a mindful appreciation of what each and any moment holds to support or enhance our very existence. Somethings we take for granted our of great importance, such as the ease of how we take a breath, functioning so perfectly that we fail to give much notice util an issue comes to hand. One breath taken has infinite air to draw from, an entire sky given for the atmosphere of life. We live by single breath, just one oft repeated for a lifetime. To bring our awareness to the breath is an act of appreciation for how our bodies perform such a marvelous function, a cooperation of lungs, heart, and vital elements that require none of our attention, no effort of our own will for its continuation. We simply breathe. Noticing this, one breath, so easily forgotten in its gentle passing, and yet we are alive by it's continuous rhythm. Similar too is each beat of our heart, blood flowing through rivers of veins, even how our skin registers sensations and regulates the body's temperature, protecting us from germs. This moment alone, from breath, heartbeat, to touch - offers everything to be grateful for. 

if we only notice.

right now, of things grateful for, and I take my first sip of coffee, warm sensation to my lips, steam mingles with breath, and long familiar bitter taste is welcomed by my tongue. I am grateful for every aspect of this experience, but more so, that I'm able to be aware of this at all, how I can notice single aspect of a singular, seamless, expression of first sip of coffee. An entire world is involved in this, no, the universe really, it's all a participation of the whole to bring my favorite coffee cup to my lips. Of things grateful for...and with just a sip...

it's all the world.

~

Peace, Eric 

That We Sin

that we sin, or so often told that we're sinners born to be saved by a certain faith, or by belief in a source and power higher than our own. It's inferred that we come into this world broken and with inherent flaws that will never be healed in a lifetime. We're born with an immediate need for a savior. Yet by no means is this ever true, not from a baby's first perfect breath to last one ever taken and through no moment ever lived between the two. 

we sin only in the original sense.

 our innocence remaining always true. 

the Greek origin of the word sin is to simply miss the mark, an occasion we all share and repeat through life. No one's aim is perfect. But it's the mark aimed for that's our concern, and it always seems somewhat ill defined, a target that's moved beyond our reach of aim with every attempt to find it. Many faiths define it as anything that goes against the laws of the creator, and this statement along should immediately set us free from any notion that we sin. 

it's simply impossible to oppose a law of nature.

ever.

and that we exist at all is all the proof offered, or needed, to believe it's so. We are life, an example of its varied perfection, made exactly as we are by the laws of creation. No mark has been missed in the divine aim to bring us here - from the point of an energetic singularity in great expansions, stars dying in the great fortune of the elements of our design, to the near infinite strand of DNA that traces our origins to the very mark of time. We've never sinned, more truly we're beyond the point of aim. There is no target to measure the scope of our existence, no standard of creation that ever needs to be met. We are,  we exist, and that's it, a perfect example of creation. Nothing opposes this. Our proof is by living this example, each breath drawn by it's design of function, heart beating without conscious effort to make it so, and that the world and its environment is given in support of it all. 

it seems the aim of life is true.

that we sin is simply a miscommunication, better told, we're humans, divine by right of our existence, pure in the deepest sense of how every aspect of life belongs in its perfection. We will err, mistakes made through the curse of living. But every target is illusory, a product of imagination inherited through a long line of mistaken beliefs and wayward notions. That we sin is to miss the mark of joyful living, that we aim outside the scope of what a single moment offers. This is it, now, here, the single point of our salvation.

nothing needs to be aimed for...

this moment is the only target.

~

Peace, Eric 

Without Asking

Without answers: 

inquiry opens us to a world without answers, or more so to a world without absolute need for answers - to ask "who am I?" is to give the request to silence, allowing ourselves to return to the original point of not knowing, being spacious, and open to any possibility. We inquire, asking questions regarding our true nature, mysteries of the world, and immediately surrender to our own revelation of silence. The inquiry itself contains our answers.

so what is the revelation?

who are we?

simply ask.

listen.

we are without answers, or at least not ones that lend themselves so easily to words. At first we are given the quick response of identity, name, career, and every social status. Yet those are labels, or actions we perform. Not one reveals who we are. This is a process of dismissal, of not accepting the easy return of what's apparent, there is no term nor role that contains a truthful answers.

so we return to asking.

dismissing.

until...

yes, until...nothing - because certainly there is no answer, inquiry is an endless revelation of show, shifting us from seekers in search of definitive knowledge to explores of all that's readily shown. Asking for a revelation is to accept the immediacy of its mystery. 

and we are given a lifetime to explore.

without answers,

there's just the asking...

~

Peace, Eric 

Agreement

Agreement:

it's all in agreement, at least that's the simplicity of being, everything fits in with this, that we are being with whatever is present to the moment, no exceptions. Right now I'm awake in the very early morning, sitting at my desk and waiting for my coffee to cool enough to sip. As words appear and take shape to form a phrase I type, pause to consider, and once more a flow of words. I am being as I am most every morning, before dawn meditation, writing, coffee. It's the consistency of being, for me at least, but on a deeper note there's emotions and other issues at play, whatever mood I seem to be, how my body feels today, my specific state of health - this is all beingness aligned to present point, an agreement to conditions found, just as they appear. 

even my wish for something other belongs. 

that I am being discontent. 

nothing is excluded.

and that's the great agreement, that absolutely nothing is left out from this, everything is being exactly and only what it is and could ever possibly be. It's that simple. More so, it's truly what we are on our most fundamental level, an agreement of molecules to form cells to be mind and body, for particles to swirl themselves as atoms and agree to be a common bond of matter - and for emptiness to be the allowing factor of this all, the very essence of everything that's being now and will ever be. 

beingness is simply emptiness being form.

our agreement is to be whatever's present to the moment, from current mood to the motion of our world, we are being expressed exactly as we are right now. It's really quiet beautiful and even marvelous to consider, of infinite points through all of existence, and here we are, being, exactly and only, what only we could ever be. 

this.

Peace, Eric