|Its Aboriginal name is Uluru. We know it as Ayers Rock. More than 600 million years old, this ancient sandstone monolith originally sat at the bottom of the sea.|
From Sunday's Brain Pickings, excerpted letters from Jack Kerouc, including this poem:
The world you see is just a movie in your mind.
Rocks dont see it.
Bless and sit down.
Forgive and forget.
Practice kindness all day to everybody
and you will realize you're already
in heaven now.
That's the story.
That's the message.
Nobody understands it,
nobody listens, they're
all running around like chickens with heads cut
off. I will try to teach it but it will
be in vain, s'why I'll
end up in a shack
praying and being
cool and singing
by my woodstove
More and more I tend to believe that much of what surrounds us is illusion, into which we may or may not buy as suits us. We have wisdom, I believe, within each of us that can bypass the illusions, lift us out of the past's repressive bonds and our mind's whispered fear about the future. Which is how we end up making pancakes in our shacks or cooing at the moon, teaching ourselves to do things we thought we couldn't and protecting ourselves from noises that would lure us off course. This is a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other business as I experience it, truly a next-indicated-thing assignment bursting with lessons about kindness, beauty, gratitude, forgiveness, going slowly, giving up counting, choosing (as often as possible) the high road, resisting engagement in squabbles, surrendering a need to be right, valuing sound sleep above many other things.
What I have learned since I began blogging (still a word that lacks music and any speck of loveliness but it is what we have) might be described as finding, through trial, error, intuition and enormous grace, a way to become an island in the moment, no longer so firmly attached to what did happen or what might. The blog and I are works in progress, or process, not fully formed as what we may yet be, not as we were, complete for now, with an asterisk (*) that means aspirations. The best description I can give you right now is this: you wake up and have an intense desire to go fishing. You do not, as a rule, fish, but you acquire the necessary gear and find a spot at the end of a pier or the edge of a lake and never think again for an instant about fish or catching them, cooking them or what in the world you are doing there. The universe, as I understand it, needed for you to sit and stare at a body of water until the sun went down and sent you the message it knew would get you to where you were needed. And so I blog.
Deepest thanks to all who have ever read a single sentence here, who have come back, left comments, shared the link, left this space renewed in any way and been silent, solid observers, witnesses, of whatever occurs.