Ephemeral meanderings…

lines in the sand.

I rest gently with this freshly spoiled bare white open page which has shone back to my gaze for some minutes while I endeavored to discover with which words it might come to be adorned.

So many words have been writ, and for quite nearly as many purpose. I can feel in my bones and upon my skin the inquiry of why, and if so what, words should find their way through me into the vast sphere of what has been said in this way.

Each word written is a personal story. “The media is the message.” Whether dictionary, satire, or surrealist scribble, the author is left there on the page to be seen by those eyes that will. Those same eyes looking upon the page will similarly see themselves, what meaning they have within, looking back.

And so I lean on some threshold between telling, as humbly as I may, some story of self, what world is born through these eyes and this flesh in the whispering of this vast moment, and calling out, giving sound to, and praying musicality for an invitation to the majesty of some new awakening, some greater realization of what unspeakable beauty may yet come to be seen.

There is a thread, interwoven with the idea of intention, the idea of commitment, the idea of action in service of generosity; this thread is the publication of this piece, and those it follows, and those left to follow it here…

It is a game which I seek to honor it seems, and at the same, there is the enormity of being that asks, “what lives?” Surely not some prefabricated construct of good and evil, right and wrong, actions to make valid, or inaction that fails some test of legitimacy?

So I reflect on my personal experience; lately, an almost perfectly scripted series of unfortunate events interspersed with grace, love, joyful connections, and a deepening sense of harmonic presence.

I reflect on messages and impressions for which I feel privileged to have encountered. What flows of sharing, giving voice to, invitation find this self a flourishing quality of this awesome world at large?

I listen carefully, quiet as I may, for some deep and sacred melody which might drive these atoms of “my” being towards the essence of lovingkindness.

We make the rules, and the rules shape our behavior. We make the technology, and the technology shapes our context. In the words of a great friend, “we build the road and the road builds us.”

What path do we walk? Who are we to walk it, and why do we go? Is there some agency in these inquiry? Perhaps yes. Is it possible also that there is a great listening, a great humility, a careful stillness in these questions? In the moments of the latter, what beauty emerges in the realization of discovery?

I do mean to write something that calls out for new openings in our lives, in our identities, in our relatedness, in the oneness that swallows all polarity save for that…

Something about the Wealth of Being, the Economy of Existence, the Wholeness of Our Becoming, but there is yet a softness, a light of living, still unripe to find the page.

In essence… How may I be of service?

In love.