Intimately Involved

Intimately involved: 

that I welcome any words to come, open, receptive, and in this way a theme appears, writing occurs, and I am completely of the process too. In many ways it's the opposite of automatic writing, a phenomenon in which the author is directed by a source other than their own conscious involvement, as if a vessel for another hand and someone else's words. Yet still I make no claim that these are my words, nor to be their source of origin, and certainly not the author, not really. Words happen, they appear, and I am fortunate to be aware, to listen, and to have the wish to write them down. It's the same with every thought, each inspiration, that they're all just a somehow appearance, a mystery, and one that finds me intimately involved in their process, part of how it all unfolds. 

perhaps that's why I prefer writing so early in the morning, with lines between dream worlds and a busy reality of the day not yet so tightly drawn. Everything feels more seamless now, words flow easily from wherever they once were and then seeming to find themselves directly to the page. It's all without real effort, as if each word is gifted from a source, but one that I am clearly part of, intimately involved with, and intrinsic to the entire process.

this isn't just about words though, what's happening now is simply an aspect of life described as writing. All of life flows this way, regardless of our notice, that everything is gifted for our involvement, from air in its seamless touch against our lips, available at very first breath, to sun, rain, and the nourishment offered by sky and earth - we've indeed been gifted with a world. And all that's asked of us is to receive, to be open, yes, to be intimately involved with the life that we've been given. It's an easy request, one that's already happening even if we're unaware that it's so.

 for me, writing early in the morning, it's just a way for me to give my notice, thankful, a prayer of being open, aware, and receptive right now to every word, to life. 

it's my way of being intimately involved.

and aware that it's so.

~

Peace, Eric 

We Tell Ourselves

We tell ourselves:

that it's all stories we tell ourselves no matter how sincere - and we have our favorite stories too, physicists tell the story of quantum theories with hopeful proof while philosophers and religious leaders might tell opposite stories with equal belief. My own favored stories, at least the ones that I'm aware of, are partial to meditation and of spiritual concerns. Yet there are also stories that play out beneath our conscious understanding, those that are deeply embedded in individual and cultural psyche, hidden from our own view and not given to examination. It's the role of the shamans among us to bring this all to light, for the poets and storytellers to speak to us through metaphor and cause an inward look. Many of these stories serve us well and have a noble cause, while many are harmful if not at least examined and determined for their worth. It's the stories we tell ourselves that shape the quality of our lives. Seen in this light -they at least deserve to be acknowledged. 

why is everything a story?

because nothing is real in and of itself alone, nothing is independent from its neighboring field of being and existence, no description free of a storyteller's view. Everything exists simply as it is, exact, and honestly doesn't need a story. That's just for our convenience, a helpful way for us to navigate the world, at least until we come to believe that a story's absolutely so. We only tell ourselves a version of the whole, a sample fit only for our individual view, not meant to be an ultimate description. This is when our stories cease to serve and find themselves as lies, no longer guiding us to see the world completely. It's not that we must abandoned our most cherished stories, as really, that would only be another story told - but that everything we believe is held lightly, allowed a certain doubt to exist within their hold. 

a good quantum physicist knows that an atom's just a story, that it doesn't exist independent of the particles that seem to give it cause and that particles too are just another story. Right now I'm typing these words on a wooden desk that holds my computer, all made by molecules and in turn atoms, particles and infinitely regressed to a field of energetic potentiality. Nothing, really. The primordial space existing before a single stories told. That's as close to truth as we may know and everything from this is indeed, just a story. I've typed these words with the cooperation of the field of everything, molecules, atoms, particles...all the way to nothing. 

infinite stories.

seemingly existing on a single page.

everything we tell ourselves...absolutely nothing.

yet through this we see the world.

~

Peace, Eric 

First Insight

First Insight: 

it's perhaps the first insight gained through meditation and inquiry, one truly significant in the freedom that it offers - that we are not the producer of our thoughts, not being responsible at all for their appearance in our mind. That's it, the insight that sets us free from ownership of a turbulent mind, and what follows is a never ending exploration as to who and what we truly are. The first insight is the key to our awakening and provides the shift of identity from one of seeker to that of being an explorer through the infinite depth of our mystery and reality. 

indeed, a never ending exploration.

this first insight provides no answers, at least none that should be believed in their arrival - remember we're exploring ourselves through mystery, an endless pursuit and reality is always shifting in the perspective that it offers. Truth is known through these layers and in this way we're never left certain of what true at all in any ultimate sense, but only of what seems so through the present layer of our privileged view. We know only what we think we do, and our every belief, every thought really, should be held in tentative grip, not taken to be absolutely true.

for me, this first insight was a gift, providing a sense of spaciousness that has only seemed to grow, expanding past and always including every aspect of my world. It's a freedom that's ever present now, a witness stage that even absolves the presence of a witness, leaving me simply aware that I'm presently aware, free, and yet fully belonging as an aspect of the world. 

the first insight is one of being seamless, that whatever appears is not of our making, nothing we've done is cause for anything to happen, but that we are simply part of this great appearance too, arising, conscious, seamlessly belonging. Of course we see this at a more subtle layer, not shirking the reality of our everyday consciousness. Life continues through the endless patterns that it plays and we accept our present position, even as we know it ultimately isn't so, being only temporary in its appearance. This is why we don't rush our opinion to these insights, almost guarding them in silence as they unfold, maturing and expanding in the wisdom that they offer. 

remembering always that nothing's ever certain.

reality always expanding just a little more in the mystery that it shows.

every insight is really for ourselves alone. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Near Magical

Near magical:

 morning meditation is a near magical time for me, a stillness that steeps all the way to bones and continues hour after walking from the cushion. It's a true sense of quietness, allowing of earliest sounds, yet everything somehow muted, hushed as if in deference to the hour. I sit for close to an hour each morning, as close to 4:00 a.m as possible, mantra playing softly through my mind, with only an occasional thought making brief a appearance. It's near magical because it's nothing really special, just quiet, but truly so, deeply, and I find myself at home within its depths.

every morning. 

of course I meditate in later hours too, an afternoon return to silence, touching home once more. But in someways it doesn't match the quality of my morning sitting, the world itself doesn't hold the same quiet structure that seems to allow only the essential sounds of waking to show through. I still love my time sitting later in the day, and often do find that the world fades to an undisturbed silence, sounds only existing on a surface level far from where my resides. It's near magical too, in it's own way, and it's unfair for me to make comparisons really. 

and yet, it seems that as I sit for longer periods of time, going deeper within, I've become somewhat of a connoisseur of these silent hours, not judging quality, but differentiating subtle layers of my own inner quietness and the ways in which they meet the world. Perhaps it could be said that silence just is, existing wholly and only of itself,  and that only my awareness changes in perception. I'm reminded that Christian mystic St. John of the Cross wrote that silence is God's first language and that Melville echoed this many lifetimes later. So truly than I am listening to the voice of God speaking to me in the language of hours, through whatever depth that I'm capable to hear and understand, listening to our always current and constant conversation. Morning is simply the hour of my deepest listening, the time I'm most apt to hear the silent voice of God and my clearest understanding. 

yet silence exists through every hour.

our listening, and own silent dialog is ongoing. 

each moment is near magic through our listening.

~

Peace, Eric 

The Real Secret

The Real Secret:

here's my own secret of inspiration and creativity - that whatever words wish to be expressed will find their way to me with certain ease, and that there's never a need for me to do anything but simply prepare myself though silence, an easy wait of knowing that words will always appear completely on their own. Indeed, this is perhaps the real secret of manifesting our desires, with nothing being truly missing from the moment of our wishing, being blessed right now by the very breath of our existence. Anything beyond this isn't ours yet and not in the means of our control to be delivered. 

life handles the details of all that's given.

the real secret is silence, patience, and being grateful for this moment.

it's being unattached to the means of a particular outcome. 

  of course that's a tricky balance to consider, having any desire is a subtle form of attachment to an outcome. Yet life is constantly delivering the fulfillment of it's own desires, we are met with conditions given for the need of every breath, we have sunlight and abundant water sources, fields and the means to utilize them for planting. Life has given us plenty, fulfilled our base desires. Although certainly there are people largely lacking the basic needs of their comfort and even some for their survival - we have the means aiding them right now, of feeding every hungry child, comforting every ailing parent. The real secret is the priority of our desires and commitment to their fulfillment. 

here's the real secret, every desire has the immediate means of it's own fulfillment, yet we are in a rush to see our own plans unfold in some particular order, we are attached to the means of their achievement. The secret here is of letting go, surrendering each desire to silence that follows its appearance and allowing life to fulfill itself as our potential. We have the right to our every wish and desire, but not the means of their achievement. Life handles every detail on its own, our faith is displayed by every breath taken, by the touch of sunlight on skin. To just exist is reason to be grateful. The real secret is to wish and then surrender, trusting life and the means of its fulfillment. It's with this that we are able to turn our care towards others, our real wish is for their well being. Let's liken this to a string of pearls, our every desire  is connected to the needs of others, aligned with everyone's desire in some subtle form. Our own true fulfillment is in realizing the string of this connection. 

it seems that these are the words that life delivered. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Surrender and Devotion

Surrender and devotion: 

of surrender and devotion - and it's my sense that this is absolute, a complete seeing that there is nothing else but life in constant letting go and then a reclaiming of itself through new and various forms. Life is devoted to its own continuation, to its expression of divine wonder and self worship. We see this through every aspect of nature, of a flower's surrender and devotion shown through roots deep through earth, petals spread to the warmth of sun and nourishment of rain. With this a flower offers itself as a blossom for pollination, for its essence to continue through a bee's worship of its bloom. Life is always in this process of surrender and devotion, letting go itself in one particular form in order to carry on through new appearance. We see that everything is temporary, fleeting in its singular expression, and yet lasting too through the essence of its cause. 

our surrender and devotion is just the same, we are only more complicated than a flower by mere degrees, but our essence is the same. We're life, rooted too in earth, dependent on sun for the warmth of our existence. We could say that a spiritual life is one of awareness to our brief expression, a bittersweet gift of knowing ourselves as a seasonal bloom and surrendering to each moment as if it were our very last. In truth no moment will ever again be repeated, and our devotion isn't to time but to each momentary expression of a self in the beauty of its bloom, even in the process of our surrender. 

and it's my sense that right now I'm letting go of all I've ever been before, everything I've ever believed was mine is slipping through my false grip of time. It's just surrender and devotion now, life in brief display of this particular form, never again to be repeated. How could I not be in worship to each and every moment? This, right now, is all I have and it's not mine to own or even briefly hold, already gone in the very moment of my cherished view. My true and only worship is to motion, to my own complete and utter surrender to all that's found now, and now, and now. 

my devotion is to the briefness of this moment. 

even as I wish for something more. 

life itself, it's all simply surrender and devotion.

~

Peace, Eric 

Always The Same Conclusion

it's a simple process and one that's repeatable and always to the same conclusion, that every time we point from the world directly back to the source which holds the view - we see at once the absence of a seer as well as the fulfillment of it's void. It's an easy trade of objects to spaciousness and then to both existing at once through the grace of our capacity to told the world. Of course this is just a description of an experiment that must be performed to be truly understood. In order to know ourselves as capacity we use an inquiry of pointing and with this we see directly and exactly who we really are. 

let's try this - point a finger towards the assumed direction of the head and then simply be attentive to what's seen. That's it. But be curious, innocent of opinion, and explore what truly can and can't be seen. In one direction there is a world filled with objects and a finger pointing directly before us. What's in the other direction? What exactly is the finer pointing towards? And most importantly - what is it we actually see when our attention is turned to where the finger's pointing? 

it's always the same conclusion. 

at least if we really turn and look to that direction. This is often dismissed as a parlor trick with little importance and yet it's the most basic, profound, direct inquiry I know of for the immediacy of seeing who we are. It's truth revealed at once and we're never asked to believe anything that isn't instantly seen at once and again we're left always with the same conclusion every and anytime we care to point in this direction. It's unavoidable, and yes quite profound. In the direction of our pointing finger only two things can ever be found - the world and it's every object, or the absence of a viewer. Try it and see. But be honest and playful with this, make no assumptions and really explore both directions. There is the obviousness of the world, familiar, and then with our attention turned towards ourselves there is only the assumption of eyes and face and nothing truly seen from our own examination. The color of our eyes is only known from secondary information, from reflection and photos and other peoples description. And we believe all we're told, that photos don't lie and what the mirror shows is true. 

but is it?

is what you truly are secondary information? 

here's a hint - when I turn towards any direction of my pointing finger I only see one thing really and that's my own open, allowing nature flowing as the world. I see capacity. The actual truth is that there's no direction, no place to turn towards that isn't the same view of emptiness and it's fulfillment, fullness and void, capacity and its seamless hold. That's it. It's always to the same conclusion and my view is never strayed from source. I only see capacity, only emptiness appearing now as form, and every object the in essence. It's all one thing. Truly looking and I have to hold myself within this view, inescapable, there is only capacity appearing as its own fulfillment. 

for me, it's always the same conclusion. 

look, and tell me what you see. 

~

Peace, Eric