There's always a point in the middle of the battle, the work, where it gets scary. When enthusiasm's gleam rubs off to leave you face-to-face with your efforts, and their underlying motivating factor. What's in a good intention? Patience to see it through, to be challenged by your values. Economy, balance, progress. The realization that progress is a term so vague, its meaning susceptible to the climate in which it finds itself. Hard fact all of a sudden gives way to perception, interpretation-- the daunting, simultaneously freeing truth that the stories we write rarely stand the test of shifting understanding through time.
And you realize what you've got is you. All you can ever hope to truly have is your self as a conduit. Remaining loyal to the forces of change. Dedicating yourself to crystallizing the residue of a hundred different stories, moments, experiences, intentions; for others. Compounded like carbon, copied, clouded; you come an polish it up to cut away what no longer works, serves. Walking the fine line of effort and surrender. Of desire and renunciation.
What will save you in the void? In that space between where uncertainty rules the ego?
And you realize what you've got is you. All you can ever hope to truly have is your self as a conduit. Remaining loyal to the forces of change. Dedicating yourself to crystallizing the residue of a hundred different stories, moments, experiences, intentions; for others. Compounded like carbon, copied, clouded; you come an polish it up to cut away what no longer works, serves. Walking the fine line of effort and surrender. Of desire and renunciation.
What will save you in the void? In that space between where uncertainty rules the ego?
How many times a day do you allow your sentences spoken, thoughts bestown by you unto you, decide the outcome of your mood? Your day, week, night, life?
What are you deciding?
Are you limiting your capacity to experience freedom, feel joy, and spread these things packaged up in undifferentiated love? Regardless of your role? Or maybe, in spite of it?
You are the key maker, the moment is the door through which you are free to pass at any and every breath. Perhaps 'pass through' doesn't do as much justice as, 'let envelope you'. The door may or may not be a rigid structure, with too-solidly built expectations of a room. What have you decided?
Perhaps you decide not to make any decision at all. Not at least until the universe reveals a little more to you.
What is perspiring?
These revelations, could they help us decide in-line with a flow so fluid, so nourishing that we are empowered to eventually steer the ship ourselves? Lacing our every movement, every vision with the power of a unity with that which makes no mistakes.
That is, unless you've decided what a mistake is.
What are you deciding?
Are you limiting your capacity to experience freedom, feel joy, and spread these things packaged up in undifferentiated love? Regardless of your role? Or maybe, in spite of it?
You are the key maker, the moment is the door through which you are free to pass at any and every breath. Perhaps 'pass through' doesn't do as much justice as, 'let envelope you'. The door may or may not be a rigid structure, with too-solidly built expectations of a room. What have you decided?
Perhaps you decide not to make any decision at all. Not at least until the universe reveals a little more to you.
What is perspiring?
These revelations, could they help us decide in-line with a flow so fluid, so nourishing that we are empowered to eventually steer the ship ourselves? Lacing our every movement, every vision with the power of a unity with that which makes no mistakes.
That is, unless you've decided what a mistake is.
