So Seriously

So Seriously: 

only briefly, and not often, but sometimes for just a few moments before I begin writing there's just a little doubt that words will come to me, that without a specific theme to write of then I will struggle as a writer, lost, and unable to fulfill my wish of early morning writing. This really seems more of a memory from past writing days that visits me even now, making just a brief appearance, reminding me that once I took this all so seriously, having a need for words to prove myself a writer. That was my demand, expecting words to show at my convenience and unwilling, perhaps unable, to simply wait for their arrival. I was afraid of silence, taking it as a sign of failure as a writer, and didn't understand the vital role of patience. Writing happens on its own...and I'm only an instrument for its design. 

happily so. 

it's not taken so seriously now at all. 

I'm unafraid of silence.

it's easy to smile now at this memory, even when the ghost of my former struggles as a writer makes an appearance and attempts to haunt my early morning writing. I have no trouble waiting, enjoying the quiet before inevitable words reach me. Writing always happens, and without the need for writing to be taken so seriously, I'm free to enjoy the entire process, whatever words are written. I have no judgement, no demands, and hold my schedule loosely. 

writing happens. 

words appear. 

always.

and that's why I can afford to not take this all so seriously, to be relaxed in my approach to writing - a pen doesn't make any demands of it's use, keyboards are completely unconcerned as to what's written. I'm as easily an instrument as either of pen or keyboard, essential to the process, but only an ingredient non the less. It's ridiculous for me to make demands for words to show themselves at my convenience, or to find myself afraid of a silent wait before they show. Writing happens, and I'm just an instrument of this creative process, smiling that I ever once believed myself anything more. 

I don't take myself so seriously now at all. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Alive With Information

Alive with information: 

the better answer seems to be one of intelligence, not if the universe is consciousness or not but that everything is alive with information, coded and self-designed to be expressed exactly as it is. That seems to be the real mind blower to me, how everything within the universe knows how to gather itself as particles and energy and become specific objects. It's amazing that there is intelligence behind the formation of a dust mote, and that this same creative force knows to form every function of my body, and then as well to design galaxies and planets. There is information on how to be a dust mote, an exact recipe of particles, atoms, and the molecules of its small existence. This intelligence urges the cooperation of the same basic elements to cause a human body, a mind that can somehow reflect upon it's own creation, self-aware, and most of all - grateful to be exist at all. 

my body is alive with information.

that's the basic line of my cosmology, that I exist because the self-well of an intelligent system urged it so, created to be an aspect of this infinite arrangement, a dust mote of information that finds itself aware. I am alive with the information of the cosmos, and that I'm conscious is a reflection of this design. I am proof of this intelligence, self-evolved from single cell to the complexity of who I am now. That's my cosmology, my personal theory of evolution....that I'm alive with information. 

simply so.

and that nothing is ever lost with this - I'm an imprint of pure information, intelligence itself, coded within the very fabric of existence. An expression of all that is right now and has ever been before. It's an easy cosmology of self-reflection, gleaned through inquiry and quiet contemplation. Of course this doesn't mean that any of this is absolutely so, it's just a story after all, lyrically told of my existence. It's my own cosmology expressed in simple terms. Yet it's based upon a premise not to be denied....

that I'm alive with information. 

a universe of self-design. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Knowing

Of Knowing: 

there's a subtle difference here in terms of the moment, that we can only know something right now, immediate, and fresh to the mind and senses - but knowledge is the accumulation of all we've learned, with an often dry quality of history being memorized and repeated. There's value to both knowledge and knowing, yet only one is alive, direct within the present moment, and feeding our present curiosity to know and express the deeper meaning of the world. 

we thrive on the experience of knowing. 

and that's really the art of being alive, our ability to know things directly just by contact and experience and through this we gain a sense of creativity through which to express ourselves with new and present meaning. That's art, always vibrant, and even a past work of any creative display will again capture our attention with every possible view. Creativity is never about knowledge, although it can be a useful tool in many ways, but it's always our ability to perceive the world through the ready moment of the senses that we truly come to express our greatest and most creative truth to the world. Art is created right now, only now, and even later in display this aliveness is a force that gains and holds our attention. Any knowledge of art or artist is simply a memory and not a true part of aliveness. 

art is always immediate.

this is similar to meditation, that it takes place right now, and how the is mantra new and innocent through every repetition, revealing deeper aspects of this ever present moment. Meditation is an art and the mantra is the means of its expression. What we experience in meditation is a sure quality of knowing this moment, knowledge doesn't serve us here at all, and memories can't inform our senses nor do they fulfill our curiosity of what the presence holds. Only through our ability to perceive each moment directly do we come to deeply know our inner world. 

that's the art of meditation. 

it's art of truly knowing. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Information

Information: 

I think the moment tells us all, that everything about existence is revealed right now, there's no hesitation as to what information is given, but only if we truly listen. I'm not really talking about knowledge here, that's not my concern, my interest is in a deeper information, it's in hearing the intelligence of the soul and the secret that it whispers. This takes a different type of listening, discerning, not being confused by the surface noise of ego speak and the traffic of the world. It's in listening to silence, vibrations, to the subtlest notion of our being and how it allows for the world's emergence. Every sound comes from here, from this still point of existence, there is no outside source, and listening, we hear only life emerging. 

we hear the soul.

that's the information of my interest.

this is the secret of physics, mathematics, every philosophy, that it's all based on insight and great epiphanies with the details worked out later. The information itself was given in a moment, directly, and only when a true sense of listening was present, forgetting all the common knowledge of the subject, completely letting go of any previous concepts and being embraced by something entirely new, an idea, if even then only a glimmer. That's the grace of information, being always available, yet waiting for the mind to clear of it's preconceived notions. There is no sense wasting an idea on a mind that isn't ready to receive it. It seems that knowledge is our preparation for this surrender, accumulating beliefs, concepts, even facts on certain matters - but only through letting go do we receive information, and this is the opposite of knowledge, it's fresh, gleaning, available only to the moment that it's offered. 

now.

this isn't to devalue knowledge, but just to base a higher premium on direct knowing, to what the present moment tells us, and not rely so intently on the past. That's the vast difference between knowing, which is always of the present, available to us all, and the dry knowledge of what's been told to others and handed down to public. Some books are scriptures, filled with the words of those who wished to preserve a certain knowledge. Yet other books are alive with a holy fire, breathing with present information meant to burn the world of knowledge completely to the ground and give us fertile soil for starting over. It's about ideas, information, listening to what the world tells us now, now, always now. 

that's the information of my interest. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Karmic Recall

Karmic recall: 

it's all from memory, everything, a karmic recall of infinite length and intent, unfolding right now in revelation of its mystery. Our bodies contain the ancient memories of a star's explosion, DNA traced through centuries of ancestors and all the way to earliest microbes residing in the ocean. Nothing is ever really lost, no deep memory of existence wiped completely clean. Life just goes on through continuously changing form - and we exist within it all. 

it's all from memory.

everything. 

and that's truly what karma is, life expressed as the action of its on going process. We are the karma of infinite things and right now is the moment of fruition, an unfolding of every past event directly to our presence. What we are is an end-result, the karmic recall of life through the ages, and we are contributing to its motion, adding memories right now that will later be revealed. 

in this way nothing really ever dies, not in any final way. We are a storehouse of information gathered through time, and each moment is a karmic recall of what's been stored by every cell, and deeper still what's held by the essence of who we are, life itself, a common soul existing through us all. Our ancestors live on through this soul as well as in our bodies, and not just people traced by family line, but that life is our only true ancestor, and that we exist now by the process of  tiniest events happening through the length of time, infinite in their number, and that all have lent themselves to our continuation. 

that's our karmic recall. 

from stardust in its creation...and the way to now.

~

Peace, Eric 

More of A Listener

More of a listener: 

usually it's the first few words, and they always seem a gift to me, gently appearing and inspiring me to follow their lead towards whatever theme will come to mind. Writing is really the art of listening, requiring a high degree of patience and being able to simply wait in silence for words to make themselves known. I am really more of a listener than a writer, as the writing only happens after long moments of sitting quietly and allowing words to reach me.

they always do. 

it's similar to meditation, being more of a listener to the mantra's subtle vibration than I am active in the role of repetition. The mantra really repeats itself and I am carried by its sounds to the point of stillness, just listening now to the vibrations play through silence. It's no longer an act of meditation as it is a merging of sound and listener to a single instant of belonging to the moment's silent hold. Really, meditation is the art of disappearance, as the listener becomes nothing more than the silence that they hear beneath the play of every sound. 

and it's to this that the first few words have led to, appearing from silence with a message from their home, reminding me that I am more of a listener than I am anything at all, or more truly still, that I am the silence that is heard. Words never quite capture the essence of this theme, writing about the absolute embrace of silence with the temporary use of words. It's important that I remain more of a listener than consideration of an artist, that I only borrow words for the sake of description and not investing them with a particular meaning of my own. Words only exist in silence, even as they're written down, or spoken, they retain the essence of their silent home. These words are simply a brief expressions emerging from silence, tracks left within their own absolute nature, serving only to remind myself that I am nothing more than a listener here, being just as temporary as my every thought and written word. 

I am more of a listener, but really, more so...the silence that is heard.

~

Peace, Eric 

Enough

Enough: 

to only say that I'm aware, and this really seems enough to me, not having any other claim than the simplicity of knowing myself as such, no belief that I am anything more than what's found within each appearance of a moment. Perhaps even saying that I'm aware is too much, that there's a subtle implication here of someone existing who's apart from this awareness, a lasting entity that's witness to it all. And maybe there is, many enlightened people says it's so, but to me that's speculation outside the realm of experience, I only know this moment and even that's a present mystery. 

it's enough to simply be aware.

and truly it is, it's enough because this moment holds infinite mystery to me, always unfolding as something entirely new, spontaneously, and more so, intimately as my own involvement too. This is what I am because it's all that I can claim to know, just this moment, and if given my attention than a universe appears through me, not a grand claim at all, but happening right now as I pause in writing and feel the early morning rush to greet my senses. I'm aware of soft sounds emerging from a field of silence, faint light just now hinting of a presence, the scent of coffee and the warmth of a cup within my hands. To explore any aspect of this could take my further into mystery than I've ever been before.

an entire universe indeed. 

but it's enough to have this moment, no need to make it anything other than the loveliness of early morning and the warmth of coffee. To be aware is to be grateful, infinitely so, as life continues to offer itself completely to me, and I appreciate all I have right now, not what might be gained later, nor whatever might seem lost through the process of time, but right now, this breath of being alive and that everything aside from this is extra, a bonus given to me by grace and mystery. 

truly so, it's enough to be aware. 

~

Peace, Eric