The Practice of Mystery

Yoga is the practice of mystery: 

my yoga is the practice of mystery, every pose beginning with uncertainty of balance and poise, no idea of how any posture will unfold as I attempt to explore each one through  their relationship with breath and relaxed concentration. I bring a new body and mindset to every practice, fresh, a different possibility of how I will perform and release myself of every expectation. My body's karma is the cellular memory ingrained by years of holding these poses, a grace brought through years of practice - but what is quickly learned again with each asana is that mystery transcends even karmic law, that conditions of the present moment always bring a new challenge to every posture, a unique opportunity for it's expression, and that most certainly I have no idea of how my practice will unfold, if balance will be found and held through duration of a single breath, if my grace prevails to the edge of mystery and carries me to whatever possibilities exist beyond my present capabilities. 

yoga is the practice of this mystery. 

with this my practice is centered to the moment, allowed and freed to be expressed in any it happens, no demands or expectations involved. What I have is an intent to practice, that's all, an energy to expend my present capacity of letting go and simply being aware of how posture is a mystery of its own, combined within a flow, and how perfect this is as a reflection of my daily life. Yoga then is the practice of life, each event an opportunity to explore my place in mystery, knowingly aware, and unafraid to fail, indeed, that failure is really, only, a label to the present possibility that's now ready to unfold. 

yoga is the practice of mystery.

and what I find, a rediscovery through each pose, is that mystery requires no practice at all, not really, and that my entire life is yoga, a fine balance of poise and letting go, being the grace of my surrender to every moment of life's flow. There is no practice here, just yoga, life, and my response to its ongoing mystery...balancing on the edge of it's uncertainty. 

unafraid to fall. 

it's all yoga.

~

Peace, Eric 

Reality At Hand

Reality at hand: 

all we ever experience is the truth, reality at hand - and yet our minds most often interpret things as being false, not believing the initial sincerity of each moment, and then quickly translating events and objects to fit a preconceived notion of the world. Truth itself is beyond our explanations, too simple really for words, but it's always available as the actual experience of the present moment, expressed in Zen as the suchness of right now, raw, and unadorned as yet by our descriptions. 

reality at hand. 

of course truth is fluid, being capable of infinite expressions, and our minds are usually unable to comprehend its many guises. We insist on things being exactly as long believed, easily understood, and fitting our ideas of how everything should be. The idea of a fluid truth is frightening to our senses, we want a solid world, available and immediate to our fingers, exactly as perceived by eyes and ears. The truth is that reality is always an interpretation of what's currently happening, how the unseen is converted to a visible world, vibrations slowed to reach our senses and made easier for us to understand and navigate the world.  

but our first experience is always of the moment, reality at hand, suchness.

this is the truth, right now, whatever we experience before interpretation and even after its translation to a world we understand. We experience the truth of water as it quenches our thirst, meeting our lips in an easy flow of liquid, and the same water may be slowed in its vibration, still the same in essence and yet visibly different, ice, no longer easy in its flow. Or perhaps the water is heated, tea added as a flavor, converted as the taste of something other, and through this process some liquid seems lost as steam, vibrating higher still, but no matter its flavor or vibration - it's water just the same, one truth through its every expression. 

reality at hand. 

our world is perceived solid, and that's one expression for us to understand. It's also spacious by it's very nature, emptiness in pure vibration, and that's another aspect of truth beyond perception of our senses. We experience both, reality at hand, and immediately translate it all to a more familiar world. It's just how things are, this translation happening completely on its own, experienced without our comprehension - but still we somehow deeply know the mystery of our true expression. 

reality being always at hand. 

~

Peace, Eric    

It's All Geometry

It's all geometry: 

it's all geometry, nature, life, this ongoing process of putting structure to space, and being a sacred arrangement of form within its own inherent emptiness. Before going to far with this I should say that I know little of geometry, sacred or otherwise, any form of math beyond simple arithmetic seemed almost beyond my capacity to learn and what I did learn quickly left my mind as soon as school was over. So there won't be any deep math involved here, I'm just a poet after all, musing, simply offering my own view and portrayal of the world. 

what I see is nature in arrangement, patterns, and that it all relates to space, emptiness, deeply so and more than eyes alone may recognize. Although with this I could be wrong, as perhaps eyes are first in recognizing the sacred lines of nature, and it's later then the mind that translates everything seen into the material world. Really, I don't know the order, and I'm not sure it matters, the seeing that I'll talk of here is of first sight, innocent of beliefs, before logic enters into thought, before even thought is entertained, and everything is seen in pure geometric structure, emptiness appearing as the realm of form. 

it's all geometry.

what makes this sacred is that the world appears so perfectly designed, not by divine hand but by it's own self-creation, nature in it's own arrangement, that everything solid is in truth emptiness in a slow vibration as form, and what we're really most truly seeing is space lending itself to the patterns of the world. Every line seen within nature is less a border than it is a true continuation of emptiness in seamless its trade as the appearance of form, sacred geometry at play. 

it's amazing to consider, and even more so to realize, that we are part of this grand design, a pattern within infinite patterns of display. And that it's all one thing in various vibrations, qualities of design for every function, and a universe of endless space and structure. There are no true lines that signify a pattern's separation, form is dependent upon space to give it structure and the appearance of order. Yet it's all geometry, sacred, spaciousness allowing itself as form. 

that's as mathematical as my mind will allow, not really meant to follow any line of logic, and that's what leads me to a more open, sacred view of nature, seeing everything from my original perspective, first sight, innocent of all beliefs, and just before the mind sets the world to a specific order. It's the geometry of natural appearance, space and form without true lines, and yet somehow patterns  seamlessly emerge. 

that's what makes it sacred.

~

Peace, Eric 

Rare Occasions

Rare occasions: 

on a rare occasion without seeming inspiration and no forthcoming words, it always seems a matter of my own listening, perhaps the depth of my attention, that I am missing the true voice of silence and what it's now trying to tell me. There is always something to write of and it doesn't need to be of any great importance, nor imaginative in theme -  a quiet moment has a secret and unique message, a whisper of it's own significance, and my only true role is to listen and write whatever then is heard.

or abide in the peace that silence offers.

and it doesn't matter what happens next, being unconcerned by the length of silence, or if words will arrive and bring a certain meaning and beauty to their order. Silence is the same as words now, a meaning of equal clarity in their true message to an author. What I hear from silence isn't the absence of words but the potentiality of their presence, that here, my own quiet mind, is the sacred hush of every temple that waits to hear the holy word. 

on rare occasions, I rest within this quiet temple, content to simply listen, no rush to gather words and attempt to fill a page. I will write when silence readies me for writing, providing an inspiration that urges me to reach for keyboards and begin the ritual for receiving words. It's an easy process now, one of words and silence entwined together, no true pause between them, only brief moments spent listening to the very act of pure imagination, and being witness to words forming from their silent hold. 

on rare occasions I am gifted by the awareness of this process, how inspiration happens, and how silence prepares me to receive the sacred words. And indeed, every word is sacred, holy in their appearance, having arrived from the pure imagination of my listening. What seems as a lack of inspiration, writer's block if you will, is only a reminder for me to listen, to allow silence to prepare me for the sake of holy words. On rare occasions...

I am gifted by this silence 

and urged to simply listen.

~

Peace, Eric 

Beautiful Description

materialism fascinates me in an almost magical way, indeed, perhaps of the many views of mind and nature it's the most magical thinking of all, almost proof really, that something truly holy is going on here. By this I don't mean the notion of God in any organizing sense, but more of an inherent sense of some intelligent intent deep within the material of the world, that somehow matter is drawn to give life, and more so, giving rise to our awareness of it all. Materialism is a beautiful description of reality, an explanation of my existence just as fascinating as if something holy were involved. 

not being a philosopher nor a scientist, my consideration of this topic is purely of my own speculation, and is really no more of an exercise of creative morning writing. I have no stake in being right or wrong in any philosophical point of view, and although my own tendency of thought leans towards a more consciousness first and perhaps only school, I'm more truly unattached to any theory of the world. The summary of my only real philosophy is that I surely don't know anything for certain concerning the mystery of the world. 

but I write for my own enjoyment, whatever current subject holds my fascination, and this morning the play of matter seems to be on my mind, materialism, that the chemical reaction of an object leads to the creation of my reality, in how I perceive the world, the very thought that I'm aware of my existence. Some are disturbed by this view, holding consciousness itself as being first and crucial to reality. Many feel that materialism is an argument against the proof of God. Yet really, it's just another beautiful description, another means of explanation to the universe at large. That matter, itself being broken down to smaller and ever smaller particles of creation, consisting mainly of a vast expanse of emptiness, somehow gathers in a way to gain a sense of self- awareness. It's a miracle worthy of being holy, a coincidence of particles leading to the current stream of our reality. 

materialism is no less miraculous than if  it was a plan of God. 

not that I'm saying there's a God involved, reality in this way doesn't need the myth of a creator, it's divine in it's own way and means of self-creation. My own view is that everything is cause for curiosity and wonder, it's a grace filled world of mystery, beauty, spontaneous and random in its nature. I have no need to add a personal belief as to how it all unfolds. I simply don't know how any of this evolved, not even this very moment of my consideration. It all seems spontaneous in origin and appearance to me, and the consideration of materialism only adds to this sense of awe and wonder. 

it's just another beautiful description. 

even if it's so. 

or otherwise, too. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Engaged

Engaged:

that I am fully engaged with the world, concerned by outcomes that affect the welfare of others, caring for their well-being, and wishing to address issues of impact and importance that shape our lives together. My concern comes naturally, arising no different than insights and realizations that free me from beliefs of how the world should be. It's a paradox of sorts, and yet I am deeply comfortable with my position, engaged, caring for the sake of myself and others, and somehow too there's a sense that things are far beyond my own involvement and control, a play of activities cosmic in their proportions and that I'm simply an aspect of how it all currently unfolds. 

engaged, because that's how life is, and it couldn't possibly be any other way.

at least for right now.

of course things may one day seem quite different to me, that my best wishes for the sake of the world might somehow be altered in their vision. I have no idea how my life will unfold and this includes whatever arises in my field of interest. I am open to the mystery. But nothing ever removes me from engagement, being fully an aspect of the world, belonging to its current flow. I am part of it all, everything, and there's no real choice involved in this appearance. 

I am engaged because of this belonging. 

it's simply how things are.

and couldn't possibly be any other way.

at least in the appearance of this moment. 

and right now...

I find myself engaged.

~

Peace, Eric 

How Easy It Is

How it is easy:

how easy it is, effortless, life appearing without me giving cause, and that I'm aware of it too in such a natural way - that it's all simply part of my existence. For me, at least seen in this light, it's an awakened life, to just note that everything's happening in the only way it could right now, unfolding in a perfect sense beyond the care of my judgement or concerns. What's noted is that I belong fully to life's flow, an event appearing as a self, and that there is no need for transcendence past this very moment. Life itself is enlightened - and I'm as fully alive as I'll ever be...

right now.

and that's how easy it is, recognizing myself as life, already aware, and now awake to how miraculous it all is, everything. Enlightenment really takes care of itself, happening as the ease of sunlight dries the morning dew, how a blade of grass glistens with the weight of moisture and this touch of light, everything found perfect in such a beautiful way, and that even my notice is now somehow part of this perfection. I don't claim enlightenment, nor even an awakening in any special sense - only that I belong to the same sunlight touched upon a drop of dew, that I am equally of earth as every blade of grass, truly I'm a participant of it all, involved through every event that life holds. 

that's how easy it is,

really,

and always. 

it's life that's enlightened, my only claim is to be alive, and that it happened through no effort of my own and without need of my concern. At no point do I have to take control and guide life with a purpose or intent, everything is cared for in the same manner as an easy reach of morning light touched against a blade of grass - dew drops in slow travel to the ground, nothing interrupting the perfection of this moment, and that somehow even later as I write this, it's still a continuation of that perfection, just as easy now, the sunlight still reaching although the grass has long since dried. 

events are always changing...

yet life remains constant in its flow.

that's how easy it is.

~

Peace, Eric