(stop moving —toe-tapping, finger-biting,
skin-picking, face-scrunching,
floor-pacing— just for a moment,
and be still.)
Close your eyes.
(stop moving—all that flutter behind my vision:
racing worries about joy I imagine others having without me,
words that others might say about me,
layers of this-and-that thing not done and needing doing
to make my life better-than-here—
all those inventions in my brain.
Nothing “needs” doing in this universe,
where things just are,
and naturally will continue being.
So be still.)
Breathe in, and out.
(feel how refreshing this is — to be full;
so full I can let go.
To let go so far that I can
be still
and breathless.
To feel that emptied space and fill it up again. Without even thinking.
Thinking is overrated; wanting is overrated.
I have enough, I am enough—
in
this
moment.)
. * .
/ | | \
/ \
Let go the idea of “normal.”
(Name what I am pretending I lack. Think back:
Someone told me I was lacking that.
That I should want that accomplishment,
and that ability, and those friends,
and that appearance.
Someone gave me a scale for good, right,
successful, happy.
And so, where I am different
from that, I feel:
less- than {Good / Winning}
and not {Normal / Happy}.
But this feeling of distance
is not between me and Everyone;
it is between me and the Scale
I'm wearing— which was not made
for me.
Name "what is my scale?" What feels
most right in me?
Learn "what am I?"
accept "I am just so," and
choose "what feels right and good
to do with that I-am being?"
I am everything I am,
and that is good enough for life.
I fill my space with myself,
and nothing else—
no crutch,
no mask,
no measuring stick
but my own natural proportions.)
Let go the idea of “owning.”
(What am I chasing?
I "own" only those things I connect with,
and only as long as we are connected:
my food, home, friends, clothes, lovers, feelings, thoughts.
Money secures nothing— only gives me legal permission
to walk away with things that used to be near others.
Now they are by me. But as soon as I walk away—
those things are no longer my own.
Come a thief, they're the thief's;
come a fire, they are the fire's;
come dust and disuse, they are the dust's—
I have only that which is with me, now.
As a being, I own—I extend into— the stretch of trail I am on,
the air I am drawing off the trees,
the clothes I feel against my skin,
the friend I'm trading gazes with,
the sunlight my skin is drinking in.
Being connected,
I own everything
I
need.)
Dissolve the wall between “good | bad”
(I know, I encouraged you to make your own scale for what is good.
And you worked so long on that! ...
Now open that scale
to let in the reality
that every life
has its own
scale.
Each unique, and all at various stages of growing.
Think
about how much
you have destroyed,
in becoming what you are now;
how much violence you have let in, and joined in:
physical—
living things you have crushed with your teeth,
emotional—
pain you have thrashed roaring onto others,
spiritual—
peaceful moments in yourself
that you have shaken apart
with buzzing agitation.
This inevitable waste of growing,
we are all complicit in,
by nature;
by being.
There is no nook for carrying guilt,
no pitcher for pouring out judgment,
in a single individual;
all of us—commonly, collectively—are.)
Dissolve the wall between “me | you”
(I know, I said “me” and “you,”
but this was when I thought
we were separate—
in accuracy, these are not
my words,
nor my thoughts
and feelings:
they are ours.
We are creating
this language now, by trading
"words" and sensing meanings.
We are looking at objects and
experiencing "life" and
negotiating our very
similar hungers
and contentments
in this place.
This place has no permanent
wall or boundary:
we absorb and spill—
my in-breathe, your out-breathe;
your sweat, my rain;
your effort, my
"archeological finding";
my folly, your pain.
Likewise it goes between
you and me, between us and
them,
among every living class and
kingdom, through every
existing space
and moment.
"We" are— from birth
until death— trading and
sharing so intimately
and continuously
that there is no
real line.
Look in my eyes:
even my existence
is yours
.)
Feel this time as the first time.
(We grow. But the past
is a story
we
tell; the future
is a story
we
dream.
Only now
ever is.
No matter how
our
mind
blends
these
.
.
.
.)
Cherish this time as the last time.
(... And what is
now,
had never
been,
and never
will be
that/same
again.)
Experience the overwhelming present.
( ... Now is full and all-containing.
A moment.
child of an infinite wave of moments,
becoming footholds for ongoing presence,
that sharp moment itself containing everything:
all echoing past
and nascent future
at a pinpoint of time
cradling the immensity of all objects and energies
mixing together. Nothing and no one separate;
similarly born and mutually consequential.)
Accept the ever-changing mystery of being a presence.
(You are this, now:
you are in this, of this, by this, and with this—meaning
you are
chemically and motionally
created in all,
inherently part of all,
persistently shaped by all, and
continuously negotiating with all
in ways that move and shape what becomes of all.
Where now goes,
depends on how all moves—
every part, in relations close or far /
soon or eventual / bold or subtle ,
with every other part that it-they-you-I-we extends into —
and the only sure outcome of this is that all will be different.
And new in its details. While staying connected.
And continuous in its sum. So again, of course,
“you” is a pointed way of saying “us”; in the same way that
“now” is a pointed way of saying “all.”)
Dissolve the wall between “this | eternity”
(We are all together.
In this existing state,
with no real end,
no meaningful beginning.
Some things simply seem to be and do—
like rocks and water,
light and wind.
Some things also seem to witness and breathe—
like plants and animals,
cells and galaxies.
What an amazing state to have grown eyes within...
Eyes that move
and one day grow still;
eyes that dissolve into what they once witnessed;
eyes that grow and drink light to witness.
All together.)
* * * * * * * *
Extra credit, from here:
(if you would like to do more than just be, peacefully)
Ask "What kind of ripple do I want to send through the universe?"
(Everything ||
I ||
face || provides a bumpy
in || , uneven
this || mirror of what I do
world || to things
|| in
|| this
|| world.
So, what effect
would I like to have
on things I pass?
people and places,
beings and atmospheres,
objects and environments...)
Trial-by-experience how to make these waves.
(I observe,
wondering
"What do I not perceive?"
I stay present,
"Close to
my senses,"
in this
concrete moment.
I interact,
"Moving around
what does not mooove..."
I reflect,
noting:
"What actually moved,
in what direction,
by what energy?"
Moment
by moment,
notice where
these
moments
have patterns,
that become
familiar, the
longer and more
attentively I
experience them.)
Refine these motions.
(So I find that I am refining myself,
as a part of this world.
And that—
if nothing else—
is a fulfilling, complete experience.
As
opposed to
a
zombied-yammering
xenophobic-whining,
viciously uptight twisted straining,
rashly quelled, preemptively offended,
nagging malicious,
lethargic kennelled jealous,
indignantly hampered,
gorging fearful, egomaniacal
desperate
confused
banal
angsty
stressful one.)
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