Awaking early I become aware of the exquisite pleasure of the body within folds of fresh brushed cotton bedding. The body is so deeply relaxed in comfort, that it can barely feel itself. That near forgetting feels practically ecstatic.
How much beauty, goodness, love and joy can I take? Will I allow in, to arise?
Is that even a choice?
Can we actually raise our inner thermoset settings to allow more of the beauty and love?
Yes of course, I have already done so. We simply face the guilt and unworthiness we were taught and carry around, view those lies as the untruths they are, and we are naturally freed. For me it has been a gradual freeing.
All we have to do is notice.
It’s 5.30am, I doze back off and at 6am I get up to bring tea back to bed. The dog comes to welcome me and be lovingly greeted and we commune in mutual affection for a few minutes.
I read a post online asking if life can carry on as normal during the enlightenment type of awakening process. There are assurances from others that it can and that life doesn’t fall apart.
I give a reply that for me, while I have no idea where I am at on that scale of enlightenment, but that this path has required a willingness to give up everything, it hasn’t appeared to be necessary so far.
Though the willingness is required. And I have certainly needed time out from responsibilities though. To process and recalibrate or whatever is going on which is a mystery.
I haven’t got a clue actually – but I sensed TS Eliot was correct when he said “A condition of complete simplicity, costing not less than everything”, describing the apparent cost, which is that willingness to surrender it all, all attachments.
Life works out just fine. Surrender seems to lead to perfect choreography. The more I trust and surrender, the more life falls effortlessly into place. Not my will but thy will is not a sacrifice but a secret doorway to harmony.
I find myself saying “well done” to the sheet drying on the radiator as I rearrange it. How odd 😂 Am I starting to go mad in this isolation?
My thoughts start to tug my attention this way and that. Always something either in the future or the past. So unnecessary. Everything is just fine without them and they only bring unease.
A tinge of suffering as I remember a slight from the other day. Another tinge of as my imagination creates a scene of the potentially annoyed impatience of a waiting client for work I’ve agreed to deliver but don’t feel the motivation to do. Guilt for that, tug. Tug tug, this way and that. And yet here I am. Traffic passing by the window of the kitchen.
It’s 8.30am. Porridge for the 3rd day in a row, wow, some sort of routine appearing here. There’s a meeting with a newish friend this morning in the park.
What if I’m living the perfect life right now. What if there’s no better place to get to. Inside and outside. Maybe I don’t want that cottage in the country after all, since I live across the road from 360 acres of woodland and river and fields, and enjoy the convenience of the city at the same time.
What if I’m not broken and I don’t in fact need fixed or improved in any way. What if I can relax back inside fully and allow life to unfold and carry me along as it has always done. What if there are no other answers to be found, no new teachings that will add something to me. What if the entire search is over, and all there is now is resting with it all.
Grinding to an absolute halt of wanting ‘other than’. The inner striver character is out of a job it seems.
The new Tempura maker!