Waiting For Words

Waiting for words: 

waiting for words to arrive, and the question isn't if they will appear, as I know they always do and everyday I'm surprised at the length of what's been written. No, the real concern is if I'll allow the morning to be silent in my wait, to not rush a single word to the page, but to simply abide in these quiet moments before even a trace of dawn shows, allowing everything to unfold in its own perfect way. 

it's here that I balance my wish for words against the comfort of this silence, there's no agenda yet, only the faintest stir of inspiration to the world. I know these hours are precious in their own qualities, limited to moments before the reach of dawn, and magical in the subtle layers of their hush. Nothing I write will ever come to match this, not a single word is worth breaking the spell that these quiet moment's hold upon my world. The balance is found by trusting in what's given, that through silence I receive an inspiration that's always greater than my own demand for words. 

waiting for words to arrive, and it's not about patience, nor even waiting really, as silence involves an artful listening, a discernment of those subtle layers of allowing. This isn't truly the absence of sound, and it's not that my mind is without thought, it's all too seamless for the duality of description, that a thought can appear without attachment to a thinker, or sound belonging purely to the listening. This is what I really wake so early for, and if words later follow than I am greatly blessed as well, 

and words always do appear, never missed in any morning. 

so it's not really waiting for words, but more truly of allowing myself to be part of this quiet process of the morning's inspiration. It's a matter of trusting that what appears is greater than my own demands, always, and there is no need to reach for words. Everything finds me here, exactly where I am, and this is where it seems I wait for words...

yet really, 

just listening to these quiet moments. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Seeking

Seeking: 

this is in defense of seeking, practice, and of devotion to a greater cause - it's spiritual call not to transcend the everyday, but to fully be immersed in the art of truly living. This is simply the examination of who we are, letting go of concerns we take as priority and shift our focus to the needs of connection, realizing that life is better served when we are most connected to each other, connected to the world and nature, and certainly when we are connected to our own hearts, listening to the truth and beauty that it urges us to remember. We're not seeking anything that's found outside of ourselves, nothing that doesn't already belong to us now, this very instant that we turn and face inwards. 

this isn't the frantic energy of one who is lost and is without direction - we are relaxed in our own presence, at home already, and what we seek is no less than the display of God in every detail of the world, our own reflection of the eternal in all that's temporary in appearance. 

we're seeking perfection in the flawed, beauty through aspects seen as less appealing to the eyes, and truth beyond our thoughts and words. It's seeking not because any of this ever absent, but only to find the well hidden and disguised aspects of ourselves that escape our heart's detection, we seek to heal what's unacknowledged, and accept ourselves as whole.

and our practice is simply, it's relaxed, and it's nothing more that whatever brings us joy through the moment of enactment. It's this joy that carries over to the daily points of living, deepening our connections, showing as grace through every interaction. Our practice is meditation, forgiveness, dancing, being a parent and caring for a child. It's really all that easy, without any complications - our practice is to be surrendered for the sake of love, through whatever means it seeks to find us. 

here, too, is our devotion, for just this moment alone, nothing more, or beyond whatever appears right now. This too is an easy surrender, we are devoted to what's present even as it changes to something other, knowing that life itself is motion, and our true devotion is only to the living. We are devoted to motion, as well as the stillness that allows it, seeing that one is not truly separate from the other. This devotion happens on it's own, without our will or effort. Our only role is see, to remember, and again to be surrendered for the sake of love and its cause of motion. 

this is in defense of seeking, practice, devotion, and these words aren't meant to address anyone who believes they're beyond the need to hear. It's my description of what seems to happen completely on its own, an energy that guides my inspiration. Really, these words are for myself alone, and my surrender is found within its sharing. 

~

Peace, Eric 

From Nothing

From Nothing: 

of something from nothing - and what makes this thought so hard to grasp is that even space and time are absent from this void, absolute in total emptiness, and yet somehow too the source for all we are. This is our regression, that we arrive to this point by removing every possibility until not a single concept remains, not even a mathematical equation that allows for the laws of physics to be applied. Nothingness is indeed, absolute. 

of course scientist debate what nothing really is, having done so for centuries, and the idea terrified ancient Greek philosophers so much that they refused to incorporate zero in their mathematical system even as the recognized its importance to complete some valued calculations. Nothingness can be truly frightening and maybe virtually impossible for us to understand. Again we come to regression and this time in a more personal manner. First seen is our bodies reduced to cells, followed by molecules and then atoms, everything smaller still until we reach the subatomic world of particles existing as a wave, not even measured until observed. Particles themselves are regressed even farther, or at least protons and neutrons are, with quarks being fundamental to their nature. At this point it's all theory, or mostly so, and we are free to pick our favorite one. Personally I love the concept of String theory, that the universe is now reduced to the thinnest strand imaginable and everything is brought forth through vibrations. This is our true evolution, something from what appears to be from nothing. 

yet still not absolute nothingness. 

and maybe this is as close to nothingness as we get, that there is always some possibility of existence no matter how remote, truly nothing simply being the vibrational patterns for what we already are. It's here that I rely on my sure seeing, a Heart Sutra discovered every instance, something in the immediacy of its empty hold, capacity serving for the emergence of my world. This is far from philosophy, without a trace of speculation, but simply seeing my own emptiness laying plain in view. Right now. This is the practice of seeing, it's applied cosmology for the momentary Big Bang of my expansion - looking first to objects of the world, solid in appearance, distinct with shape and color, and from here to trace them back to the source which holds their view. Look, truly and with innocence of expectations, what's found? My eyes will never see their actual source, emptiness always appears absent from the view, and yet reveals itself through everything that it holds, seamless, and at once. 

something.

existing still...from nothing. 

~

Peace, Eric 

From God

From God:

that it's all divine, the literal meaning of being from God, and this includes life's every expression without exception. This is my own description of course, just a story using words that fit an early morning mood of gratitude and awe. I'm awake right now, senses stirred, and everything seems to comes from God, each detail of the morning revealing itself divine through its subtle display of simply being, existing, and how it all seamlessly belongs within my view. There's an observer here as well, watchful of my own connection and display, that I am seamless too in my belonging. It's all from God, infinite observation regressed to inevitable emptiness, silence, divine nothingness. 

that it's all from God.

to be from in no way means diminished, what I see now, this morning, isn't a lesser gift than any other aspect of God. It's an extension of holiness itself, heaven all the way down to the dew dripped blade of grass that waits for the first touch of sunlight to be dried. It's of God, being exactly the same, and if not found here, on a single blade of grass, than won't ever be discovered, won't be known in any meaningful way. It's all from, of, God, everything's revealed to be divine.

don't take these words to be religious, or even spiritual in anyway - this is the holiness of the mundane, ordinariness, God in every detail of existence. These are just words that lend themselves best to my description, not a reflection to any belief except what the morning itself holds. I believe in the God that exists just before sunrise, a hushed sense of awe in hours not quite dawn. It's that blade of grass, growing heavy now with weight of dew and expectation of light, all of and from God, nothing but the divine revealed here. It's just another morning, similar to endless others before, and yet it's never been exactly as it is right now, never seen again in this unique expression, and this is what I awaken to. 

every morning...

it's all from God. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Anxiety

Anxiety: 

there's been a struggle for me with anxiety for sometime now, perhaps for much of my life it's been an underlying presence, often intense and causing near panic, but mostly just a whisper that feeds my worst instincts through situations and conditions of daily living. The past several years have been difficult and have finally brought me to the point where medication has been needed. Yet still I hesitate to call this a struggle, or say that I suffer due to anxiety. It's just present, a manageable threat to certain moments of my internal equilibrium, and few people ever see its presence. Some might say that I hide it well, and yes, it's seldom evident to others, but it's not something that I try to keep from people. I don't hide it, there's no fight against it, no struggle, really - it's simply part of life, allowed as every aspect is, acknowledged for its harm if left unchecked, yet it's nothing that I refuse to recognize as belonging. 

if it's present, it belongs.

even as I wish for something other.

and of course I do wish that some aspects of my life were easier, that anxiety wasn't an issue that inhibits certain interactions with people and situations. I do the things that help and then continue with my daily living. There's an equanimity here, peace, and not because of absence of any struggle, but of acceptance to what's present, each moment, and this includes the quite often struggle to accept what's present now. It's a paradox only when it's labeled as such. For me, it self-evident, seamless. It's life. 

this was the gift of meditation, of a continuous awakening to life in every moment of its expression - everything is always changing, fluid, and none of it has to meet my expectations. I am not the one who decides what's allowed or isn't, it's not the point of my acceptance, nor denial of any given situation. Life is, and it continues to unfold regardless of my of concerns. Again this isn't blind acceptance, nor is it resignation to what life holds - I am a dynamic participant though each moment, part of life's motion and expression. I'm responsive. 

that's become the key difference, as so often anxiety forces a reaction, and sometimes this appears as an inability to deal with life's present situation. Things have shifted for me though, I won't offer an explanation as to why, and in truth I'm not really sure how it happened, or why, but only that it has and I attribute mostly due to grace. Here's the funny thing, grace does not exclude the tools of meditation, breathwork, yoga and exercise, and not even medication. 

everything belongs.

and now, through grace, and all that's included, I see myself belonging to life through it's every response - anxiety is simply what life sometimes offers me now, as well as everything I do to minimize it's harm. That's my equanimity, it's my peace. 

it's grace.

~

Love, Eric 

Of Meditation

Of meditation: 

the question was of meditation, if it was a viable means of awakening, does the practice itself lead to liberation and freedom? Fortunately it wasn't directed to me and I wasn't part of any such discussion. It's fair to ask, but really, it's impossible to answer. The question was from a podcast on spiritual matters and it turned rather lively on this point, not of meditation alone, but of practices in general as a means for awakening. 

do we need to practice what is already present? 

and of course the answer is no, we don't need to do anything and most especially meditation. I love the term awakening as it pertains to me of dawn and the ease to which we open our eyes and allow the morning light to simply be, finding us exactly where we are without effort of our reach. Everything is easy, natural, and spontaneous. What's to practice here? 

yet for me, meditation is a beautiful part of this, not a practice to attain anything at, not a method of achievement. It's a settling of thoughts and breath into the ease of stillness, an expression of the divine no less so than any other activity but one set aside for the singular act of its devotion. Meditation slows me to an easier pace of observation, and deeper still comes the recognition of the world allowed exactly as it is, right now, without need of change or being fixed. Yes, this all takes place without the aid of meditation, but for many this the first glimpse that such a thing as this exist. 

meditation is my reverse dawn, to close my eyes and find true light, awakening to the present moment in whatever's found. With eyes closed, nothing is avoided, no distractions, just a pause to accept it all exactly as it is, and with this I remember that it's always so, eyes open, and continue with my day. Meditation brings me joy by process of its practice, not an end result at all, as this joy is always present. 

it's not about awakening at all.

nor is it apart from it.

it's simply what I do...

joyfully.

~

Peace, Eric 

Dharma Point

Dharma point:

specific dates don't seem to stay with me, yet certain events stay vivid with a resonance that vibrates to this day with significance and meaning. For instance I no longer recall the date of my last drink, and this is truly a counting point for many who have put alcohol behind. I remember the drink, the bar, and my reason for quitting, a decision that arrived quite suddenly and with purpose. It seemed a clear choice was laid out instantly for me, a continuation of drinking and the consequences to follow, or in that exact moment simply no longer cherish the decade long lifestyle that brought me little joy. I won't say it was an easy choice, for those dependent on alcohol it never truly is, but it was a moment of clarity, a dharma point if you will - I simply knew that there were two distinct paths for me to follow, one involved alcohol and the other no longer had room to entertain its presence. Whatever date it was...I had my last drink ever that night and it was less of a struggle than one would imagine, alcohol just ceased to be a reason for any of my choices, it wasn't involved in the life that flowed from that dharma point onward. 

it was a new life.

the word choice appears a few times above - I mention it as if there were a clear decision to be made and I weighed out all my options. Dharma points don't seem to work that way, there is no real choice given, it's not fateful like that, not really, although life will drastically change with any new path followed. But it wasn't a choice for me to make in anyway, not in the traditional way of thinking at least. I didn't make the decision to quit drinking, no vow or declaration was made. What happened was more of an alignment, this was the way that life was steering and I offered no resistance. That's why I like to refer to it as a dharma point, a moment were life takes a firmer hold and seems to have a preference for the path one's meant to follow. Dharma, our life path, doesn't seem to offer choices, it's not a force that presents clear options through every moment of its unfolding. At least it doesn't appear that way to me. Again, it feels more like being aligned to joy even through my most difficult moments, a resonance of purpose and design. A dharma point is really just pause in the journey, a placed offered to measure the resonance of joy against the present path that's followed. It's listening, feeling, deeply so to the very fabric of the soul. Here I use the term soul not to refer to a singular, separate entity, but as a collective belonging to the whole. To be aligned with dharma is to know that we belong. 

life has offered these dharma points throughout - some I've followed and others were ignored, or I was willful in my preference. But they are still and always offered, a moment to pause and deeply feel my way along instead of blindly going forward. It's not magic, it's simply life. 

~

Peace, Eric