Sunday, May 17, 2009


It is very early in the morning as I write this, and the scent and sounds of May are drifting in the open window. There is a green perfume with notes of birdsong and baby sunlight. It's easy to think in terms of eternity and infinity, takes no stretch of imagination to recline in a verdant, flowered field with some big rock-candy mountain in the perfect distance.

The touch and sensation is supported by trust and openness and delight in the course of things.

Life on a populous planet--packed like sardines in the negatives of human thought and unconscious action--makes trust a challenge, to say the least. When "common sense" holds that survival depends on the strength of your walls, resistance and battle skills, relating on every level is tainted with a win/lose mentality. We sit with our various woundings in a state of constant bargaining, because we so desire real love, full rein of our senses, and authentic meaning that complete cynicism is almost impossible. Something in us continues to reach out occasionally, albeit through some barricade or slotted window in an ancient emotional fortress.

Wandering through a ruined castle or abbey where the birds have come to roost and the ceilings have taken their natural places in the wild grass, one comes to understand that these ancient stones are ultimately meant to surrender to an army of wallflowers and moss. Resistance, as they say, is futile. Collapse is always in the cards for anything we build. Love wins.

Long ago, I decided not to be agoraphobic in my own body, or even a mere tourist in life. Caution is all well and good when it comes to caring for my physical being...but safety is an illusion. The instinct that keeps me away from the rim of an active volcano or out of the path of a train is something deep and primal that I don't have to think about. But psychic clenching and withdrawal feels terrible, like a bad bargain, like an agreement to indulge in a pretty poison because of the illusory security and substitute love it grants. I am interested in the real thing, which happens to be the real "me", as well.

Healthy being is naturally a state of dynamic repose, relaxed attentiveness, and all other forms of paradox. I understand that the defensive capacity is what it is, and that there is nothing innately or morally "wrong" with a human who exists in a state of imagined isolation. I am that human. But below and beyond that, I am not human. I am not anything at all. I am an inclusive, unnameable "process" with an ability to create, a nature that I cannot attribute to the local, biological organism unless I do away with the idea of locality.

Releasing the idea of locality also collapses space and time; suddenly I am whatever is, right now. This is a far too open and vulnerable state of affairs for a strong ego or a smarting psyche, which immediately turns away to rebuild. But you know, it's an exhausting pastime, rebuilding in the name of defense!

On a day like today, or in the middle of a carbon-fueled storm or a social collapse, there is only one thing to do. Let go. There is nothing to replace the splintered and suspicious ideas that were supposed to protect and fulfill us, because we are already endless and full. There is nothing but an infinite receptivity going on here, an infinite capacity of each facet for the other. There is no actual struggle, even in the midst of violence. The love that we are equalizes and undoes everything it grows in the very motion of itself.

Fall in.

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