On Accepting What Is Again. Again.

06/05/2006 6:30 AM – 6:53 AM

The light comes up in the morning and shows only traces of clouds, stretching themselves across the horizon. Some seeds were planted in the pots on the fire escape last night; more will be planted this evening. Wake up and do this.

Things change and other things stay the same. I am grown up, and somehow, this is what I want to be. Why did I want to be this person that I am right now? Does it really matter? What matters then? Peace. What’s peace? Peace is recognizing the inherent all-rightness of this existence. Letting go of pointless striving, we seek to grasp the base level of full silence. Where were you then? What were you striving for? Do you really need what you want? Is what you want more necessary than the possibility of future peace? If not, let it go and return to what is freely given in this second. The tick of the clock. The stillness of the morning light. Forgetting all that is behind, we press on towards whatever will be.

Save your money. Divest yourself of all that isn’t necessary to this small right here. Like us, time moves in small circles, progressing ever on to what is next. It is not necessary to run to keep up with it, merely walk or sit. But sometimes run so hard that your lungs scream from the terror of cool air. Accept what is again. Wake up and recognize that this right now is what is. Floating down the wide river, gather the fruit that bobs in the water. Eat what you need and save what you can. There are seasons without fruit. Let it go and be where you are right here. Put down that knife unless you need to slice an apple. All things that are will go. Only some things come to be. Resolve yourself to reality. The only way to do it is to cherish the grit of it all. Let go, old man. Let go, little boy. All things you are will stop their striving. Pass on into the silence of the growing life. Find the green inherent to the muscle and the red inherent to the leaf. Let it go and be yourself as you are. Peace is not found in fantasies of the future, only in finding the peace of this very now. Accept this cup and drink it down. Drag your stick along the white picket fence that marks the front yard of the unknowable. I am here. I am here. I am here.