It is Autumn now though the leaves haven’t begun to turn. The seasons have changed, we are saying. But were they the real seasons before and now they are not the real ones? It is important to understand this for I make things be a certain way and then despair of their changing. Has something been lost? Was it the better way before?
Is change a loss of something or is it the receiving of something unknown and unexpected? Something that brings wisdom? Why not be fluid about such things? I watch my peace of mind disturb itself over something merely different. Why not embrace the stability of my being and have all that revolves around me be only curiously interesting as I nest in warmth and consistency within my invisible wholeness? Am I not enough? Am I not Home in a place of awareness, in a conscious knowing feeling awareness?
Because what I am, is awareness. Nothing other. But alas, I make my inner dialogue about the world I live in, which serves no creative purpose for it heightens a shallow presence and obliterates my view of the depth of myself. So much empty thinking has obliterated me from myself and myself is where peace and power live. Thought is loaded with feeling and the feelingness I’m capable of is sweet, reverent, graceful, pure, and … simple.
Simplicity is a word I use these days in order to complain about the lack of it in the too complex world I live in. How does that complaining serve me when all the while I could be looking to myself and find there the plain and simple directness I need. Honestly, what a silly one I am.