Life the Great Mystery

Much has been said about the topic. However, this essay could be a short one.

In essence, Life is Nothing. All of the concepts that we, as humans, create about and around Life, are essentially just stories. Representations and repetitions of something that just can't be described in words. Or in any other form.

Life is Nothing. Which seems to leave us, as individual humans and people as a collective, into a precarious position. You are nothing as well.

The concepts that we create about ourselves, life on this planet and the causality of the world are illusory.

There is no greater meaning to any of this. No heaven. No hell.

And in this hopeless nothingness seems to be the paradox of Life.

In the Nothingness of Life is Freedom. Freedom that appears in myriad of forms, from beauty to destruction. This Freedom is something that our human condition cannot grasp, since it is nothing. Yet simultaneously, This is it.

Living love ever after? This is freedom. Dying in agony? This is freedom. Denying everything that is available here? This is freedom. Surrendering and relaxing into what is? This is freedom.

Even this essay is nothing. Merely an attempt to make a storyline about Life. The Great Mystery. Nothingness filled with Everything. This is it.

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The Relativity Theory of Life

Me is a plural form,

a number of different roles,

the aggregate sum of which

is zero.

An impossible equation,

where infinite

approaches non-existent.

In this equation

certainty

is relative.

Life is

99% random.

You get born. You will die.

There's that 1%.

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Breath Cycles

An impulse appears.

To write something about Life as a Cycle of Breathing. Once again, however logical or intuitive this appears to be, it is merely a story.

Life seems to appear in all of us as a cyclical pattern.

Breathing in – opening up into something new – spring in nature with flowering and blooming.

A flash of something – a change?

Breathing out – closing down on the old – autumn in nature with leaves dropping and decaying.

This cycle appears to happen within and around us. And as a part of the Human Condition, we seem to create stories around and about it. With identification and stories come emotions.

Part of the Human Condition is to have an ongoing negotiation with Life. “Yes, I understand, that Life is Everything. But is it that also?!”

“Yes, I understand, that Life is Nothing. But maybe it could be this, though?!”

With the Breath Cycle, there also appears these Realizations.

Maybe, just maybe, This is it.

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Beauty of the Ordinary

Not everybody gets to see the beauty of the ordinary.

For inherently there is no thing to be seen.

The Quantum Leap is to let go of the notion of separate existence. And in that all is perfect, Life is Living in the Garden of Eden. The Heaven on Earth.

This is the Big Bang. No time has elapsed, no space created in the Evernew expansiveness of Life as it is. Non-Dimensionally and Non-Locally.

Life is sacred and whole as is.

"And for This I weep. The beauty of what is."

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Dancing with what is

Throwing out all the norms, with no regard to what was, what will be, and even with what is.

Embracing the hyperbole of in-between.

Ah, Life! With a capital silence.

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Ponderings

- Who am I?

- I do not know.

- I am in motion.

- Dwelling beyond me.

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Hymn of Silence

Love is the Language of Silence

What is said, when there is silence?

'I Love You. I Love You. I Love You... '

And as there is no one to claim ownership of the experience, all that the silence echoes is:

'Love. Love. Love...'

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Cultivating thisness.

I love falling away.

Falling into the Mystery.

In Love.

Emptying in each outbreath.

Filling up with each breath in.

Life.

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On Cultivating.

Cultivating stillness and motion.

Cultivating the conditions for the inevitable evolution of highest intelligence.

Cultivating exactness and randomness. Openness and closeness.

Cultivating silence and sound.

Cultivating Softness.

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We Are All Enlightened

Some of Us Have Just Been Blinded by Our Own Light

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Nothing is truly permanent.

Frenzied harmony.

Do not do anything,

unless each cell is filled with the frenzy of living.

There is no bargaining with life.

All is simply illusory.

For one that is swept away

by one rush of living

is truly eternal -

For one was never there to begin with.

So stare into the nothingness

that resides between here and there

and drop the maddening notions

of what simplicity may be.

Sanity is housed in insanity.

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Whoa!

The marvellous existence of Life!

What a predicament to explore.

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How words just disappear.

How words just disappear. Meanings meander in the markings on the margins of life.

Subtle - can you tell?

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- Hahaha!

- What are you laughing about?

- Oh, absolutely nothing. In spite of my self; that is rigorously holding on to the dream and drama of humanity.

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There is no conflict.

We are simply looking at the phenomena of Life through different lenses.

And in that there is Creativity.

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LARP

Itself - The Game That Plays Itself - Life Acting, Roles Playing

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I'm fighting a passive war against cynicism.

To preserve what is pure, joyous and innocent.

The lust for Life that simply can not be contained.

For the container itself finds no solace in the separateness of containtement.

And yet, what a fool I have become! For waging a war that is not real - a true hallmark of a cynic.

Steps, however small, lead me into the abyss. Inevitably.

So, be raucous! Celebrate the paradox of Life, and the prosperity of Death.

I Love You! In each step of the way.

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A Divine Craze

Oh, what a life—

to truly savor,

to indulge

in all the things

you've been hiding

away for eternity,

for all your life.

The damnation.

Remorse.

Shame.

Fear.

All those aspects of the self

you’ve been denying.

Oh,

to embrace it all.

Oh,

to dance with all those shadows,

to let them lead you astray—

and to find yourself

in the midst of these friends:

the divine lust,

the divine heat,

all the craze and craziness

of just

allowing

it

all.

Dancing with it.

Singing with it.

Going absolutely insane with it.

Oh, what a living.

Oh, what a dying.

And oh—

what a fool I’ve become.

The purity.

The impunity.

The absolute fallacy

of life

without all the darkness.

The Divine Craze

is the Divine Grace

to embrace it all:

the light,

the dark,

the myriad of shadows,

different shades of grey.

As the humid air turns red

and the cacophony of life—

filling the darkness

seeps in

like the first rays

of the morning sun.

Oh, to be alive.

What a living.

What a dying.

To sip it all.

To really savor it.

To realize—

how a mere mortal

becomes simply this:

the gush of the Divine.

The living impulse.

All that is created

is the simple joy of living,

joy of existence,

and the heat of the moment.

So sing.

Dance.

Praise Life as it is.

Take everything

at face value.

Be brave.

Be daring.

When it's your time

to bow and exit the stage,

be raucous.

Don’t yield to pressure.

Proclaim proudly:

This is my stage.

This is my life.

This is my performance.

For me,

I am God.

I am the Divine embodiment.

The Divine Will —

in all its glory,

in all its grace.

Let the impurity

and the purity

meet

in all the blood

that’s coursing

in your veins.

And let the heat

of Life

fill you up.

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Thank you, present moment.
You hold me in your eternal embrace,
Softly, gently.
Unwearied, even as
I keep struggling away—
into illusions and constructs.
And time after time,
I get to feel the grace
with which your softness and boundlessness cradle me.
Thank you, for in your arms I may forget myself.
And be whole, in this moment.

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Life in multicolor.

We are all Godly Dreams, the Divine emptiness in full effect.

The Earthly Miracle is to be unattached with the sorrows of the other. For however life is perceived, it is simply the highest Dream of Divine Existence.

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I am cultivating softness.

Not due to the lack of anything else.

There is the potentiality of being brutal, of using force, of going there. I have sat with the inner demons. I have met with those residual parts of humanity that are part of the alchemy of a killer.

And at the same time, that is not the point here. The point here is to be able to be open, soft, humble, gentle and tender.

And I guess this world would do well with some more softness and openness.

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The sense of unease, restlessness of 'There has to be something to be done with what is',
is simply a predicament of the prevailing human condition.

This unease can be termed as 'suffering'. And as the local experience of what is perceived as 'self’' takes ownership of such sense, there is the arising of the need to alleviate such suffering.

Yet, simultaneously there is no need to change, fix or alter anything as that sense of squeeze is simply an expression of existence in this particle form.

 Cultivating openness is the greatest act of Love. And in that lies the essence of what is understood as the Feminine principle. The full emptiness out of everything is birthing.

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Maybe I'm here to write poems about love, to cultivate openness in life.