Friday, 23 January 2009

There Is No Certain Way To Be.

It's so amazing, this. There seems to be a process but there isn't. There seems to be a deepening of this, but it is already all that is. What is happening is just what is happening, without judgement. There is nothing I can do about it, for there is nothing to do and no one to do it. But the freedom is beyond communication. I was so rich before, had so many things, so many ideas, possessions, feelings, and was eager to keep them all safe. Now there is no choice, although choice sometimes seems to come up. There is feeling and doing and thinking, but it is not happening to me; it is just happening. What is, is very big, it seems. What is, is everything, and I am that. There is wonder in the seemingly smallest thing. Just the sounds, the sensations, they have such a gorgeous quality. The liberation from separation is simply the natural state. Words can't convey it, but what these words inadequately point to is what saturates every bit of this appearance, this manifestation. It's the biggest thing here, it's the only thing here. And it is here despite there being nothing. Everything is a blessing. Even those thoughts that arise once in awhile that it all really sucks.

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