With a List

03/28/2007 7:39 PM – 7:59 PM

What’s the edge then? The list (for easy reference): non-judging, patience, beginner’s mind, trust, non-striving, acceptance, letting go. There. And what do we do with it then? We exist as we are and forget what we can. Remember walking in the creek on days like this. The water is too cold. If mom knew, she’d say no. But there’s no need to tell mom. There’s this. This is words. There’s tomorrow. But it’ll be today by the time it gets here.

If you can, you forget yourself and remember only enjoyment. Being in enjoyment, with or without concept of self is the solid thing, the good thing, the one good thing. We stand up and sit down. We accept the fluctuating nature of being. We accept that enjoyment runs though fingers, tight clenched or wide open. Hold fast/let go. You sit up with a start, the sound of gunfire in the distance. And once you were brave and curious and now you see the withered hands and missing feet. But for the grace of God? What grace? He has no leg. Who sinned – this man or his parents? But that is neither fair nor clear. We do what we can and God remains just because his position of power is situated in eternity. Mea culpa, mea culpa.

We cannot know, oh Spike, the nature of the thing. God is just. God is good. God is right. God is always right. He must be or we cannot move. And so he is and so we move. You get up after the shaking has thrown you to the ground. Non-judging, it just is. Patience, this too shall pass. Beginner’s mind, it is interesting. Trust, all things work together for good. Non-striving, this is enough. Acceptance, this is. Letting go, okay. We are what we are and we dream of better things to be. The color of the thing. Orange. The taste of the thing. Orange. The name of the thing. Orange. We are and see that we cannot. We are and see that we can. The day is itself. The self is fluid. The fluid is divine will. Somewhere, my true love lies. My mansion awaits in the Kingdom of Heaven. Come, Lord Jesus. The weight of the just fucking making it is heavy and I am only myself. So you breathe and feel your belly push against your shirt. Open your hands and fall. Close your eyes and know. Whatever it takes, take it with water as cold as the creek in March.