Skip to main content

This is it: Seizures and Truth

The whole spiritual search has lost its luster. After a while the enlightenment carrot starts to look like…well… a carrot, no different than any other carrot, the pursuit of another ideal in one form or another. Oneness chasing oneness is another case of conceptual bullshit.  Utter and complete. Every attempt to experience oneness/enlightenment/liberation is a movement away from it and toward a conceptual world of twoness...the illusion of illusion.  It just doesn’t matter. Our western conditioned minds, raised on autonomy, the pursuit of happiness and platonic thought, divide body and soul into oppositional constructs, only to provide some arbitrary point of reference.

Today, while at work, I had a seizure.  This one was accompanied by hours of disorientation, loss of words, heart fluctuations, dizziness and the typical emotional aftermath.  Hours later, as I sat with the vulnerable uncertainty of life, I realized I am no longer interested in concepts.  I don’t give a damn for the spirituality vs. matter debate.   I couldn’t begin to care if there is “other” or if the whole show is the creation of a mind intent on separation.  In the final hour does any of that matter?  Does any of that offer peace in the quiet hours when you lay awake before dawn and all pretense of self is suspended?  No.  It’s all noise. 

I breathe.  I need air.  I stand.  I need gravity.  I move.  I need energy.  I eat.  I need all the life forms from which my food comes.  This human body did not evolve in isolation, intellectual or otherwise. I need other as plant, animal, human and more.  It is ludicrous to postulate about spirit AND form.  It’s mental bullshit.  It is all LIFE as ME, as YOU, as air, as earth, as cosmos, as seizure, as heart arrhythmia, as us, as whatever is here.  Right now.  In truth, we don’t know what is going on here; we only know that something is.  That’s the best we can say with any measure of clarity and honesty. 

Given THAT how do we meet THIS moment?  Do we try to adapt it to fit some imagined version of how it should be? Do we try to manifest something else or employ some other resistance to THIS? Do we wonder how a more enlightened version of ourselves would handle it?

I sit, disoriented, dizzy and emotional, offering a tender yes to this, utterly awed by the unresolved, uncertain and unknown nature of life.

The whole liberation thing can by cleared up pretty simply:
Love what is. Or don’t.  Doesn’t make a lick of difference.
This is still it.

Comments

Unknown said…
I forget you have a blog and consistantly fail to log into it!!! It is where I learn the in and around you!!! My how deeply I love and care for you!

And this: " This is it.
Love what is. Or don’t. Doesn’t make a lick of difference.
This is still it." This is truly a gem!!!

What comes to mind reading this entry is, 'Seize the moment.'

My O My how I love you.
February 18, 2016 at 4:02 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Coraggio

When everything looks bleak and the darkness cramps against the cold, it takes courage to simply look out from imagined isolation toward the wide horizon of beauty available in every moment.  It takes courage to lean into the sea of life and trust the tide. When weary limbs no longer support us, it takes courage to trust our inner buoyancy and float.  It takes courage, in the face of darkness, to remember the light and sit in all our apparent blindness and listen, silently, to the still, small whisper within.  It takes courage, in that dark hour, when nothing else remains.  Eyes closed.  Eyes opened.  A glimpse, a memory, a fleeting vision of a light so bright it blurs the borders of things seen and things perceived into a comprehensive wholeness of being.  It takes courage.
4 comments
Read more

tree digging

Yes, I know it doesn't look like much.  It was only about 5 inches in diameter and 8 feet tall.  The root ball was no more than 3 feet deep.  But it was a sweet red-bud tree that we planted the year Bodhi was born, his placenta was buried in it's roots and like many of the trees in our neighborhood, it died (see this post to understand why) . I can't say that I mourned its death in a tangible way, rather it produced in me a sort of unnameable melancholy.  I am a woman who loves the spring.  I nearly live for it.  When the first signs of life emerge like a haze of hope, I drink in green with the passion of a desert crawling woman sipping at an oasis.  I gorge.  This year has been hard.  Our neighborhood isn't leafing out in native splendor, instead the tired trees seem to begrudge the effort, only offering a tender shoot or bud occasionally.  The north side of many trees appear to have given up all together, too tired after a long winter...
2 comments
Read more

grief

Grief is defined as a deep or intense sorrow. I have been thinking a lot about grief, about it's wide and sticky reach, about the watery quality of it's absorption and the agonizing effort of swimming to shore. Intense sorrow happens. It is a part of life. Yet we press against it. We try to eradicate it. How? We encapsulate our grief in a story, thus effectively removing us from the immediacy of the pain. The mind promises salvation and begins to tell a story, over and over and over. We listen to the inner ramblings, the constant diatribe, the neurotic attempt to avoid the experience. When someone is hurting we listen to their story, we talk about it, we recount our own story, but we certainly don't jump in the waters of sadness, instead we sit on the bank of our familiar longing. Once, when I was floundering in deep grief, my youngest brother knelt next to me and held me for over an hour. He didn't speak. He didn't commiserate. He just jumped in the ...
4 comments
Read more