Here I am, writing, listening to Hauser. His cello sounds embrace me and lull me into an incredible sweetness. Hauser’s feelings, his love of cello-sound enters me and I am smitten.
His loving vibration soothes all my tangles, calming my nervousness as I write. Relaxing, I allow my flow to have its way.
What is there to say? I suppose too much that would fire up the cycle of fear and not enough to solve it.
The evidence mounts, more than ever, we need to transform the cycle of fear in which we are trapped. We need another force going forward. Certainly fear has expanded our population numbers into billions but it has gone beyond benefit and is now harmful.
We need to find love. It is the only solution possible. It is obvious, aggression repeats the cycle and deepens the misery!
We spend too much time in speculation believing we can solve our human reality. Arrogant, ignorant of not knowing we do not know it all, we continue to forget there is always more than is readily seen. We oftentimes miss the obvious.
And so we would, since it is forever impossible to understand all the variables and besides, why is there a problem to discover we do not know it all? Yet it seems everyone is ashamed to learn this fact.
We live. We experience learning our story from beginning to end. Our lives unwrap second by second, surprising us with its unexpected.
We falter, stumble and fall. A heap of confusion, in pieces, lie around us and we have to face the truth, we are responsible for its sanity. Insanity drove it mad or on second thought, being driven mad is part of the process of discovering our sanity. What is sanity? :but absorbed information the brain deciphers into meaning.
Seeing one’s own insanity begs the question, How can I get sane? And so the logic of intelligence, the moment we learn how insane we can be, we have been handed our sanity. For knowing one’s own insanity, is the very art of becoming sane.
Will you choose to stand and call all your pieces back together?
Do not miscalculate the evidence, you do not and never have, been alone.
And yet, you have ever been an individual , a proud piece of the whole, adding energy, knitting experiences into one.
Call your pieces back together. They will rush to your side. All you have to do is honour the one, who stands alone wanting and willing to stand. So courageous!
After many years of searching for purpose, I realize – there is no purpose for me. I have been complicating my mind with the noble idea of a specific purpose.
Today it is clear, paradoxically, I do have a purpose but it is not to have one. For the sake of clarity, I am avowing my purpose in a concept which goes against normal thinking by proclaiming my purpose is not to have one.
Consistently people inform of the solitary trek to find one’s purpose and I agree. It is a sole journey. How could it be otherwise? In truth, no one has the privilege to assign a pre-designed purpose to another person.
Therefore who is it that remains to execute this most important assignment?
Me. Little tiny old me. I am presented with the legacy of that most distinguished of decisions and I accept.
What a relief to understand the folly of searching. I ponder at how long this took to figure out. It is quite simple, obvious even. But never mind, it is a learning come and I am grateful.
Since finding one’s purpose is solely subjective, no one can dispute the meaning of any purpose. This is a guaranteed subjective choice of which no one can put asunder. No authority may interfere!
Blissfully, not having a purpose frees me incredibly. The portals open and I accept my truth.
All my philosophies align and nod definitive approval “You are correct.”
How I proceed from herein remains a mystery; discovering my purpose of not having a purpose, exposes a subtle truth. I am no longer searching for meaning or purpose therefore what do I do?
I need to step aside and allow myself to unfold naturally, respecting the inherent wisdom with which I was born. Rather than relying on prior thought or advance projection, patiently, my purpose reveals itself, moment to moment. I am watching the movie I act in.
My purpose of having no purpose, however, is not easy. It demands trust and quiet of thought, a difficult practice. The struggle however, rewards a priceless truth.
Today I understood what love is. After many years of discovering what love is not, this morning it revealed some of itself.
I saw clearly love is a choice.
In the moment, in the second, when we are presented with choice, we need to recognize that this very moment, we have a choice. When we remember ourselves as intelligent creator, we can step aside and consider our next choice. Every act of choice ripples through the ages. Every decision we make is important. Even the tiny ones. They all have affects.
To defer from choosing immediately and as a matter of choice, pause to consider what-is in its entirety (well! as best can be) and ask, “What would love do?” is the birth of love.
Love is about choice, in the moment, continuously asking us for adaptation. The moment, any particular time, where a call to select a way forward stands sentry guarding tomorrow. To pause, to see what cannot be changed and then, not allowing pain’s blood into tomorrow.
Each decision will impact our, your and my, reality. This will in turn echo a change. Your intent will ripple through the waves of life and cause an effect. This affect will transmute into an effect and so on and so on.
To create a heaven on earth, one much choose love every moment. A personal commitment to pause and temper unconscious reaction. A dedication to remember how unconsciously we humans think things through. For example, back In the sixties, instructions were televised to the public, advising sheltering under furniture if an atomic bomb were to go off. The people did not think the suggestions ridiculous, they assumed authority knew better and took note. This now preposterous idea reveals how inept humanity’s awareness and reasoning can be. Further back, we have the inane directives concerning witches. And if your arrogance protests at this, and you think we know better now, you are missing a great truth.
In seeing what resembles unawareness clearly, one cannot deny something needs doing. Humanity’s stupidity is endless. We can never know all there is to know. We are ever poised on the point of ignorance. And no, this is not a human flaw but rather a great gift, the ability to learn.
When things go awry we analyze and then use this analysis to learn a new way forward. This means we are evolving constantly, there is no end. Evolvement is the crux of this universe.
As we enter into the practice of pausing, the depth of why we need to, ups our game. We see how, above all else, this new attention needs top billing.
We need, as a humanity, to rise up in consciousness. The paradox, laughs at us, as we learn to honour the benefit. We create our selves.
At any one second, we ever know what we know however, the more important aspect is to consider what we have not readily seen. In the second we are ever missing something of what-is. Therefore, we need to implement a practice where we ask the question, what haven’t I understood?
Uncannily, when this question is posed and a period of silence follows an answer appears and one cannot deny the wisdom of the answer.
In my darkest hour, in the fall of thirty-one (age not year), I faced a deathly despair. I no longer wanted to live. With all my energy drained, I had no zeal to remain on the planet. I did not care to stay.
Everyone I had ever known had betrayed me. Each had told me I did not matter. My family, my friends and now, as this despair overtook me, even I (who could not stimulate a care for my well-being) lay there in a pool of giving up, stagnant, unwilling, unable to continue.
If it hadn’t been for a soft slap hitting my face with its whisper, I would have remained lolling in that feeling of nothing, frozen, vehemently vowing allegiance to despair’s focus on nothing.
From out of a deep silence, from within an abyss of sorrow, a faint voice, one I did not recognize, whispered, “You are loved.”
The words appeared within me but they were not my words. How could they be? For in following a logical stream, my despair was a result of believing the fact, most fervently, I did not matter. I had learnt well what everyone else knew about me. I was not enough and so did not matter.
I ask then, how could a love sentiment come from me? In fact, I believed without doubt, I was not loveable. Furthermore, I was skeptical about the concept of love since evidence to the contrary confirmed its absence every day. How could this sentiment have been mine? If love did exist, its glow was too faint for me to notice. In that state of bleak, it was not possible for me to generate a loving hopeful thought.
So whose whisper was it? From where did the sentiment come?
Pondering this, I guess some people would suggest it was God while others would define it as survival’s force. Me? I do not know and not knowing is fine with me.
For me, neither the divine nor the benign can reduce the magic of the voice’s message or my surprise in hearing it. In that despondency, the tenderness I felt cannot be described in words. It deepened this mystery I have emerged into. It simply arrived when I was in most need.
Whenever I remember this time of my life, I marvel at the what or whom? that invited me to believe in the noble force of love.
It beckoned me to wonder and ponder this biological and universal mystery and enter into a new innocence, not knowing. Certainly, yes, the magic could be many things. It could be God, the force of a loving and knowing entity, best caring for us. It could be the simple effect of an instinct for survival come to ensure my organism’s continuance. Either way, it was magical.
I realized the force, a wish for continuance, feels like love. The force of life and the desire for its continuance of which I am a part. The circle of life … the reverent feeling of a being a whom, mysteriously created, who, in the face of nullification, inspires its own continuance.
That day, broken, apart in pieces, flat lined – when suddenly, a touch within, a spark blooming into a thought suggested. “You are loved.”
A hope to be relit, birthing from extinguishment. The ember faint, negligible, prodded with the inspiration to accept the energy offered, to believe in its own worth.
And the realization, that I was a being, wonderfully made, programmed to heal by reaching for well-being. It was love’s hope needing to be.
The source channeled into form after a wish to experience itself appeared.
Shortly after, form upon receiving the source’s channeling, identified itself exclusively with its own channeling, forgetting it was in fact, the source.
It perceived itself as the object that was its creation and its true nature was disremembered.
This developed a yearning – a nameless longing inspiring a search.
Eventually, as it was destined, the creation suddenly remembered who it was and the source knew itself.
The creation became aware that it was not the creation but rather – the source channeling through its own creation.
Up to now, I did not give this word importance but these days it points to the most beneficial skill one can develop in this earthly experience. Unfortunately, I am repeatedly faced with how difficult it is, in general, for anyone especially me, to reinvent life habits. Requiring safety in a dangerous world is appropriate however clinging to what-was, even though what-was has evaporated, delays opportunities for reinvention.
In persistently hoping what-was will return, intact, exactly the way it was, blocks the better way forward. We miss seeing the treasures – what-is – offers. Venice’s waterways have become a karmic symbol of the effect a quieter humanity causes. It is one of the benefits created by the lack of humanity’s interfering footprints. The longer humans continue in lockdown, the more we witness earth showing signs of renewing health; air quality is improving, a great perk for everyone.
From since ever, before and now, a cyclically era of demanding reinvention appears and this current one is not more difficult than any other. Simply, Covid poses challenges that has humans scrambling to find solutions, no different than any other formidable crisis. Our economic and social habits have been ambushed and we do not know how to handle it. As was in any other problematic time, reinvention is demanding our participation.
In this magnitude, these days, the people who invent new options to deal with days no longer similar to what was, command my attention. I am inspired by their swift release of a structure that has stopped working. They have looked around, and said, “I am breathing – now what else do I have going for me.” and then set themselves searching for another way to cope with our strange normal.
While others are lost in fear, complaining and blaming, they are using the opportunity to make and distribute solutions. Many people would not recognize themselves to be in the fearing, complaining and blaming group however, you would be surprised to learn what subtleties initiate you into that group.
A tiny example of this is my husband’s interaction with his beloved library being closed. Unfortunately, due to Covid, the library closed with little warning leaving him without any books to read. One of his preferred pastimes, reading, suddenly gone. Missing his afternoon pleasure, he is slowly becoming more and more subdued, impatiently waiting for the library to reopen or warmer weather to appear. With each yearning second, he slips ever more deeply into anger and depression.
When I offer him options, he bats them away with an aggressive defence of his beloved method of reading. He loves to hold a book, he says. He enjoys flipping the pages physically – no slide across the screen for him. In contrast to a tablet, inserting a cardboard bookmark secures his place every time, successfully.
Furthermore, buying books is disagreeable. He is practical and making frivolous purchases goes against his nature. Buying books, he insists, is an impractical luxury. Missing the warm feel and scent of paper, he dislikes holding the coldness of a tablet. He reveals his distaste to my suggestions with a, “Won’t buy books. I hate reading on a tablet. Can’t do it!.”
The clear truth is that the only time he tried reading on a tablet was when books were plentiful, available in a minute or two. In this new reality, the odds point to a far off library opening, perhaps a month or two or more. It is an uncertainty causing him misery on a daily basis. His beloved method of reading is a part of what was.
Without my interference, he would continue slithering into the grey, longing for the library to open, yearning for warmer weather. Undaunted, loving him and wanting his well-being, I installed Hoopla – an app to borrow books online from our library – and it awaits him on a tablet. After much cajoling, he is relenting and says he will give it a try. He agrees so his nagging wife may be silenced. (I do not see an openness in his decision.)
It is a small example of the struggle of reinvention. My husband’s need for his preferences, as they were, is strong, wedged in firmly. As I witness this pandemic, I learn reinvention does not come easy for us humans. Once we reach a certain age, we like what we like and reinvention is something we turn our backs on, as we keep helplessly yearning for the familiar comfort of what was.
For me, I wonder if this is the primary cause intensifying humanity’s problems. As I see it, far too many cannot let go of what-was refusing to embrace and dance with what-is and invent a new way forward.
This – that we find ourselves within – is based on relationship. The glue of the universe is, in its essence, created by dependencies of relationship. It is a glue, living and changing, invisible in its nature, revealing itself through the evidence of effects.
We study the effects and feel the affects but frequently, the cause (relationship) goes unseen. Because of this, we frequently do not consider how relationship is the basic driving force creating us and our reality. If you have not come to this understanding of what we have emerged into, Covid-19 is about to teach you something wonderful.
Our current reality is revealing how connected we all are. Our enemy, covid-19 is sensualizing the density of relationship, a thickly woven fabric. It shows us we are not separate entities but rather affected forms created and maintained by relationship. The people who see this pandemic as an opportunity to strengthen their personal position rather than on better serving each other so that we may all suffer less, are akin to a virus’ and cancer’s exclusive self-service stupidity. They have not understood life is dependent on relationship to exist. Life is neutral and although humanity is an example of its supreme success, destroying ourselves rather than intelligent growth continues to be a choice.
The universe’s intelligence is apparent through observing the magnificent symbiotic system of relationship we have on earth. Unlike the virus’ and cancer’s force that destroys, symbiosis is eternal growth. As in the example of the virus, exclusive self-service cannot win since, in its stupidity, it harms the host it needs to survive. Once the host is affected, two forces ensue. Either the host kills it or it kills the host therefore also eliminating cancer’s and virus’ benefits. Complete self-service manipulation without equally benefiting another is the height of stupidity.
Humans are dependent on each other and symbiosis is the logical force for maintaining our lives and continuance. Some humans are not very astute. In their dullness, they grab without restraint, hoard without awareness and take more than they need. They push past enough reaching blindly towards the insanity of greed.
2020 has brought us a lesson, Covid 19. It will teach us that ignorant self-service causes us much harm. It will hopefully teach more people who yet do not understand this. It will leave us wiser, more appreciative of each other with an increased capacity for calm and patience. Unfortunately, some of us will not grasp this lesson. Nevertheless, I am cheering that the greater part of us will understand in a novel, never before enlightenment.
This lesson will be indiscriminate of whom it will teach but I am hoping the majority of humanity will learn the truth of symbiosis. Human class status is not part of the virus’ MO. This viral force has no leader. It is strengthened by an elite discriminant self-service with a lack of awareness for others. A virus has no discernment, no sense of its choices, it is entirely self-serving.
In contrast, a service-tendency towards each other creates a circle in which feeding and caring for one another becomes an eternal loop of growth. When we self-serve in greed and fear, instead of strengthening ourselves, eventually, we are consumed by our own myopic understanding.
Our lesson requests prepare but do not hoard, kindness over fear, invent symbiotic acts to temper rising anomalies and the most important, we are not happy apart from each other. Who knew?
Covid-19: Currently playing on nature’s movie screen, a lesson for humanity’s viewing education – dramatizing the insanity of self-service.
Often I hear stay safe as a new farewell. My wrap up to this blog, will instead be, “Stay calm.”
“What are you going to do with that?” she asked, referring to my current art piece.
The following week, staring at this same piece, he cocked his head and asked, “Why?”
The two people offering comments on my art belong to the same weekly art group I do. They are not teachers but rather companions who love to do art. When I first joined the group, my conceptual drawings had frequently caused the group and I discomfort. In contrast, my last two projects, both portrait oriented, consistently had received positive feedback. The result was me, for the past couple of years exclusively working on portraits.
Although less well received, my true love, since ever, creating philosophical drawings, sirened me back to its side. Recently, I switched back to themed drawings and once again the feedback was silence or annoyed confusion. Discovering nothing has changed and I do not fare well under others’ displeasure makes me agree with you, I am a wimp. However, taking license, I respectfully correct my judgement and perhaps yours, and relabel myself to gentle soul.
Although feeling hurt by what my art friends unconsciously communicated, I answered both questions with respect. The covert message underlying each question was, “What worth does this piece you are working on have?” or “I cannot see how the time spent is producing worth.”
They did not see the value of my piece and were asking for clarification as to why I was wasting my time on what they discerned was ineffective.
Calmly explaining my intent to the dear lady who first posed a question belied how her question had drawn blood. One week later, the second question went past the first wound and wedged in my heart. Answering his “Why?” with a spontaneous, “Why not?” did not change that a few days later the arrow continues to stick out and although I am trying, it defies dislodgement.
Ironically, this, what some would define as a minor event, echoes and announces the point in my art piece. It addresses the effect of influence and how it can support or harm the people of this world. Perhaps my piece, to my two confrères, fails miserably in its importance but it is also interesting how their questions promote my piece’s message. Both my art mates reverberate the role of the crowd in my drawing’s background. They expressed confusion but underlying was a certainty, “I do not see the worth or purpose of your piece.”
Undoubtedly, they have no idea how their reaction affected me. Each, unbeknownst to the other, have declared my piece worthless with how they posed their questions. Thoughts of not attending the art group cross my mind – an effort to comfort my suffering. My reason shuts this down with a, “Oh no you don’t! The easy way out will harm you more!”
Since then, I hesitate and back away from doing art. My confidence shaken, I ask, does my work have meaning or is my focus on needing others to find my art meaningful the problem I need to face? In any case, producing something I hope has value but then the feedback is otherwise, drains my energy. Do I continue doing something others see as less than valuable?
It is a recurrent theme, persistent, jabbing me awake. I keep learning that trading my art, writing or any other pleasure for another’s approval dishonours my spontaneity, potential and overall life.
My drawing shows a young woman who looks out at the viewer with a, “Do you see what they are doing?” The crowd in the background represents others’ influence. This subtle energy of influence delineated by flowing lines, here and there, burrows into her skin. Her dress designed with the word “influenced” is a metaphor suggesting influence can be removed. Her face’s colours of mauve and gold illustrate how influence spreads and covers her original golden nature.
Arrogantly, people mistake their ever incomplete knowledge and personal preference for what it is right and correct. They shoot their opinionated energy unaware of the consequences. The power of influence can either destroy or nurture. The trick, in turning the power of influence into a positive force, is to grow a subjective authority that will weed out destructive influence and nourish the supportive. Each of us has one purpose, developing a singularity. Listening and allowing the supportive influences guides us there.
Each child is born recognizing supportive forces. Unfortunately from the onset, children are not taught to trust an inner guide but rather to obey outside sources. After twenty years of indoctrination, freeing a subjective internal judge who can overpower this training is not easy.
Teaching a child to become a critical thinker confident in their ability to discern the difference between supportive and harmful influence rather than inserting a system which promotes obedience and dependency on outside forces would change our world for the better.
Finally, supported by the irony of the experience, I approach my new drawing, another themed piece to which others will cock their heads and ask me, “Why?”
Hopefully my authority will strengthen and say,
“I don’t care. I am satisfied. With my eyes, I have made a beautiful thing. If you do not see or feel its beauty, it does not change the love I applied!”
It came from here and mostly there, tipping the balance, informing how little importance I hold in my world. In my twenties, discovering the world did not define me special, was less painful than facing this new not being valued in my own personal viewable universe. Over my life, I accepted not being popular and was content with being valued by a few. Unfortunately, my value slowly kept changing and this week, the obvious stood up and forced me to look at the lack of interest I command. I have been asking myself why discovering my worthlessness is painful but nonetheless learning my offerings are not compelling hurts.
Certainly this could only be if somewhere in me there is a disappointed wish of needing validation from others. Learned ones tell me it is a biological component of being human, this desire to be worthy to others, and this week, my failure flashes white on the billboard of a subjective screening room.
I am aging, seventy-four this year. A shudder of disbelief surges thru me as for a brief pause, my ageless self takes account of where I no longer am. Memories cause time to crunch into a second and I hear myself think, “Wow, it passed quickly!” But it did not, did it? I lived every second or is it perhaps I missed something along the way?
Practicing not running from reality and what it shows me, I welcome the pain and allow the sting to pierce my entrails completely. The sadness surges expanding into my body and gasping, once again surprised by the cold of aloneness, I whimper, “Yuck.”
In the longing for comfort, a thought appears, a suggestion of how cold may have a hidden benefit. Again, disconcerted, even though it seems silly to be so since it is a proven and recurring truth that everything always has a silver lining. I embrace the feeling with, “after all, have not moments of aha been many, my dear?”
This need for validation, as my awareness points to its existence, an unconscious basic necessity, falls to its knees. I see you there, oh basic unconscious drive to be important to others. I see you there oh desire to offer a value of purpose. Is there an alternative to alleviate the suffering my failure creates?
Why do others have the power to judge and decide whether or not I am valuable? Yes, they may not want what I have to offer but is it indeed worthless?
And when it is judged unimpressive by others, did not the creating of it offer me well-being? Is my creativity’s award exclusively reliant on the preferences of other people or does it contain the priceless reward of expression for its own sake?
The butterfly flies into the same world as once, the caterpillar called home.
It is the same world, yet, the butterfly’s reality differs from the caterpillar’s experience.
Once a butterfly sheds its caterpillar’s accordion existence, it soars into the ether and rides the wind. For me, this proves every creature perceives reality through limited attributes. If my hearing or smelling senses were as acute as dogs what would my world be like? If my vision was as sharp as an eagle’s what kind of a world would I see? The caterpillar experienced a world the butterfly can never know.
Sure we humans have mechanisms aiding us in peeking into other creatures’ reality but they are merely glimpses and not a life lived in that different world.
The caterpillar and the butterfly could not compare realities therefore they never knew what each did not know; something humans constantly do not consider when convinced with what they know. Perhaps humanity’s arrogance is a simple not-knowing born from a belief that what they know is correct. An expert may be focused on one area of discovery but this very focus may create blind spots in their expertise. The position of expert promises and awards accolades, respect and generous compensation however in closer inspection, it is false.
One cannot know what one does not know. The caterpillar did not know, that it did not know the world in which the butterfly existed. What’s more, the caterpillar had no idea of its destiny – becoming a butterfly.
The caterpillar’s physical attributes creates a sensual perception with no familiarity to the butterfly’s. The butterfly in turn, even though, the caterpillar transitioned, is ignorant of the world the caterpillar died in. For me there is no doubt that depending on physical attributes, any creature’s (including humans) perception of reality is limited.
Although humans may say we know we do not know, our behaviour belies this and presents as knowing it all. In our fear of what we find ourselves in, we humans have evolved a bad habit. We were taught knowing is better than not knowing. From early childhood, we were criticized for not knowing and praised for knowing. We babies understood the lesson correctly, to be an excellent A+1 being, we need to know. And yes, we need to know but our competitive nature has implemented a perversion.
Most awards are given for knowing. There are no accolades for not knowing except to be frowned upon and shunned for being a dolt, a simpleton, a loser. By adulthood, we know to emulate confidence in knowing hoping others may continue to reward us. Most of us do not know this as we avoid not knowing and instead focus on ‘knowing’. When experiencing a not knowing our secure foundation quakes and we, in fear, hide from what is disturbing our well-being.
We are entrenched in a habit of being proud of knowing. We strengthen, build and protect our knowing. It is the primary truth of our lesson from society. Do not mistake this for a flaw, fault or error. It is the appropriate result of an enforcement in childhood – society reveres experts. Not knowing is ridiculed by most.
How often do you hear, “I do not know.”? Generally, as a common practice, we offer a speculation rather than, “I do not know.” A speculation is considered more intelligent than a, “I do not know.”
Why do we do this?
With a plethora of low and high levels of differing types of intelligence, physical anomalies in brain formation producing variable memory and imagination abilities, upon sharing information of which there is more of than any one person could learn and understand, nevertheless we mistake, when someone exhibits ignorance of something, as stupidity. I had a friend who would say, “Wow, I can’t believe you don’t know this.” It is a harmful conclusion colouring how we behave in relationship. This incomplete perception is fundamentally, for me, the basis of our communication problems. There are too many experts and far too few questioners.
Unfortunately, there is a paradox in this truth. If one cannot know what one does not know, how then, does one learn they do not know if specifically they have been hypnotized from birth into the knowing world? Would it not follow one would protect their knowing at all costs?
It is not an easily taught truth once the indoctrination cements itself. It can be understood logically, intellectually but becoming this truth is fraught with paradox. The habit has penetrated, furrowing deeply into our brains. We are no longer separate from its tentacles, we have become one with the habit of knowing. If one knows, can one then be open when new information presents itself contradicting what one knows?
What’s more, the solution can only ever achieve practice. We need to practice realizing how little we know through an understanding and acceptance, we actually know very little. We need to pause ourselves and consider we could be wrong about everything we have embraced even though touching the void of not knowing is frightening.
A gentle stroke of not knowing flings us into the emptiness of insecurity and flailing about in the void of not knowing, we scramble to regain our more comfortable position, knowing.
