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I am in a hurry.  A rush.  I want what I want and I want it now or at least by the end of next week.  I want my life to unfold at my pace and so I spend a lot of time trying to push the river.  It never works.  One cannot push the river because one is merely an eddy in the river and not, as our ego’s personal stories pretend to be, the river itself.

I am impatient.  I want this life to hurry up and share with me all it’s secrets. I am like the spoiled kid at Christmas that can’t wait to unwrap all his presents and does not appreciate any of them.  I want my art career to take off and I realize it may not ever do so – so I spend time swimming in marketing thoughts getting lost in their swirls and backwater jams and for a moment forming an eddy.

In the life of a river eddy’s are of great import and help maintain the flow and creation.  They create haven’s for water bugs and for golden reflections of the setting sun.  Some one made the comparison of our individual lives to eddy’s in a stream.  How we hold together for some time while the stream of life and energy of the  river moves around and beneath us as we bob along and then something happens and the invisible tensions which held us together are gone and we begin to break apart and slowly dissolve and return to the one river.

When I am quiet.  When the mind and it’s thought streams slow down a bit and I can start to see them float by, then I start to see that the only difference between an eddy and the one river is a form – a shape – an illusory boundary we think exists.  Sometimes I raise my hands out and search for that point of contact with that boundary a thought of me is absolutely sure exists separating me – “Robert Bridges” from the universe which holds and sustains me – in which I dwell and have Being.  So far I have yet to touch it and I don’t think I will.  I think it is only a thought that thinks it can – that which watches knows.

We often think something called “enlightenment” exists and as we so believe and continue to weave the dreams and dramas of the stories that keep the idea of a separate ME alive – we forget we are mere eddies and here for only a short while.   Scott Kiloby puts it this way: “enlightenment is just a fancy word for the realization of a felt sense of being….Being is not for the intellect to grasp.  It is what you are before the attempt to search or grasp it intellectually arises.”  Before the mind slaps a name/label/construct upon one’s experience.  And from experience I can tell you that that’s damn fast!  At least as fast as a good camera shutter allows us to catch a falling star or leaf or raindrop in mid-air.

Life unfolds differently.  For each of us I suspect.  But to some degree we all try to predict, control, and plan for what our stories suggest will be our life-line.  But strangely enough no matter much thought time and planning, organizing, analyzing, and rehearsing we do it never works out the way we have imagined it and the people who populate our worlds always seem to find ways to surprise and delight and mystify us.  We can re-visit old territories with new maps.

I am learning as I continue to follow Vipassana Buddhism and practice meditation and mindfulness, that if I approach people and events the same as I approach a Dahlia or an Iris…..from a space of the heart….from a place of curiosity, from…..

To be continued in Post’s soon to come.

Namaste and a shout out to Geri Binks.

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