Emily, thank you for reading and taking the time to share here. It was so good to be with you last week, and I intend to follow up via email, slow though I may be. . . .
I am not very good at the wayless way but I am practicing. If I hold softly, yet securely, to my anchor of faith and work to stay away from so much analysis it is easier to go with. I guess this IS the work of our lifetime.
These are beautiful, contemplative passages Renee, thank you.
Donna, your words so beautifully echo the 'wayless way': "If I hold softly, yet securely, to my anchor of faith and work to stay away from so much analysis. . ." then, it seems, we come to the path of the heart. I love that you refer to your "anchor" of faith as that which is grounding, not suspended, i.e., "blind leap." As always, thank you, Donna.
"To unknow, then, is to unforget that we are living flecks of originary stars—primordial being of the Earth that bodies us, the Earth a body borne of the Cosmos, the Cosmos infinite radiance of an indescribable mystery." That's the ultimate being present to every unfolding moment and truly remembering who we really are; underneath the ego, the personality, the wants and needs of being in a human body in the human existence we've created for ourselves. Most of the time, the mystery of existence is lost and forgotten. So, having said all that, how I continue to unforget the truth moment to moment is the most difficult thing I endure. I have my strategies for remembering, but it's momentary awareness, and then it's gone, and I'm back into my life as I've been living it; relatively lost in forgetting. I know a good poem by Rebecca del Rio that helps me remember: "Come new to this day. Remove the rigid overcoat of experience; the notion of knowing; the beliefs that cloud your vision. Leave behind the stories of your life. Spit out the sour taste of unmet expectations. Let the stale scent of what-ifs waft back into the swamp of your useless fears. Arrive curious, without the armor of certainty; the plans and planned results of the life you've imagined. Live the life that chooses you; new, each breath, each blink of your astonished eyes." What I would change is the opening line: Come new to this moment!
Dear Ed, thank you for this most sincere and honest reflection about forgetting and coming new to this *moment". You write: ". . . how I continue to unforgettable the truth of the moment to moment is the most difficult thing I endure. I have my strategies for remembering, but it's momentary awareness, and then it's gone, and I'm back into my life as I've been living it, relatively lost in forgetting." This is where we find ourselves. Isn't it? Over and over--endlessly--forgetting. And here's the paradox: it is the remembering that we are forgetting that is the gift, for it is in this moment of translucence that our presence returns. Rebecca del Rio is new to me, Ed, and you are becoming a poetry library! This poem mirrors these reflections beautifully. Thank you.
Love this piece Renée, especially given our discussion last week. So good to be with you in the unknowing.
Emily, thank you for reading and taking the time to share here. It was so good to be with you last week, and I intend to follow up via email, slow though I may be. . . .
Slow is just right Renée, thank you.
🙏
I am not very good at the wayless way but I am practicing. If I hold softly, yet securely, to my anchor of faith and work to stay away from so much analysis it is easier to go with. I guess this IS the work of our lifetime.
These are beautiful, contemplative passages Renee, thank you.
Donna, your words so beautifully echo the 'wayless way': "If I hold softly, yet securely, to my anchor of faith and work to stay away from so much analysis. . ." then, it seems, we come to the path of the heart. I love that you refer to your "anchor" of faith as that which is grounding, not suspended, i.e., "blind leap." As always, thank you, Donna.
"To unknow, then, is to unforget that we are living flecks of originary stars—primordial being of the Earth that bodies us, the Earth a body borne of the Cosmos, the Cosmos infinite radiance of an indescribable mystery." That's the ultimate being present to every unfolding moment and truly remembering who we really are; underneath the ego, the personality, the wants and needs of being in a human body in the human existence we've created for ourselves. Most of the time, the mystery of existence is lost and forgotten. So, having said all that, how I continue to unforget the truth moment to moment is the most difficult thing I endure. I have my strategies for remembering, but it's momentary awareness, and then it's gone, and I'm back into my life as I've been living it; relatively lost in forgetting. I know a good poem by Rebecca del Rio that helps me remember: "Come new to this day. Remove the rigid overcoat of experience; the notion of knowing; the beliefs that cloud your vision. Leave behind the stories of your life. Spit out the sour taste of unmet expectations. Let the stale scent of what-ifs waft back into the swamp of your useless fears. Arrive curious, without the armor of certainty; the plans and planned results of the life you've imagined. Live the life that chooses you; new, each breath, each blink of your astonished eyes." What I would change is the opening line: Come new to this moment!
Dear Ed, thank you for this most sincere and honest reflection about forgetting and coming new to this *moment". You write: ". . . how I continue to unforgettable the truth of the moment to moment is the most difficult thing I endure. I have my strategies for remembering, but it's momentary awareness, and then it's gone, and I'm back into my life as I've been living it, relatively lost in forgetting." This is where we find ourselves. Isn't it? Over and over--endlessly--forgetting. And here's the paradox: it is the remembering that we are forgetting that is the gift, for it is in this moment of translucence that our presence returns. Rebecca del Rio is new to me, Ed, and you are becoming a poetry library! This poem mirrors these reflections beautifully. Thank you.