Unpredictable

And the weather chills. The warmest day so far this year yesterday, and today a chill wind carries the chance of snow. Weather is such a magical thing. I love that people put so much effort into trying to predict it. I love that people put so much effort into trying to predict anything.

I, for one, know less and less. I am finding it impossible to predict what will happen; and the harder it is to predict, the more wondrous the mystery before me. That, I am loving. When I am unable to predict, that is.

I guess it’s when I have a sense that I know what could happen, when I look at the future and don’t like the story it tells – that is when I suffer. When I am open to it all, there is nothing to hurt me. Only my story of what could be can hurt.

This is a blessing. This is a gift. This is the way. I sit here knowing nothing and it is beautiful. I find that time there when I had so many fears of what could be, and it was torturous. Which would I choose?

I think I prefer this. I think I prefer chill wind and not knowing to Bahamian sunsets and dread.

I discovered this so long ago, and how easy it is to forget. I remember realising that it was all the same – only my story of it changes. I remember realising that the world treats me exactly as I treat it. I remember. Sometimes I remember, and this is what I get.

And other times I predict. I tell stories. I look at the possibilities and analyse and fret. I tell the story of the past and project that into the future and this moment ceases to exist: I live elsewhere, and that is hell. Being here, right now, snow front blowing, it is perfect. Durga the cat cuddled up beside me seems to know this; she is so snuggly, so seemingly content in this moment.

So here I am and that is all. There is nothing more to tell. Mauve walls and low ceiling. That is all, nothing more than the things surrounding me, and even they don’t exist until I see them. Mauve walls, low ceiling, rush of wind outside. And the fire burns, my heart warms and the cat sleeps. That is all.

No decision

If I make no decisions by myself, this is the day I will have. (ACIM Chapter 30) It is a picture of perfect peace. So what are the decisions? Every time I think I have a choice; every time I think I know how things should be; every time I make a judgment - each of these are decisions. When I think I know how someone else should be different, or a situation – that’s a decision. It seems every waking moment I make them: which word to write, how to spell it, when to get up, when to put one foot in front of the other and walk. Each and every one of these is a decision, and it is my job to stop making them by myself; to let God in and listen – hear Him.

There, I said it.

Yesterday I was walking along realising how there is no escaping my thoughts. However fast I run from them, however hard I fight them, they just keep at me, relentless. Like Katie says, my job is to meet them with understanding and then they let go of me. Trying to let go of them is hopeless. Trying to ‘do’ anything (as me) is hopeless. Today I make no decisions by myself. There is nothing to do but watch and wait and listen and act on the simple directions; nothing to do but ask for guidance every single step of the way.

It’s easy to make that resolution now, more difficult – much more difficult – to live by. The moment the world around me speeds up, my thoughts have a field day and all this gets forgotten in the snap of a synapse. Goodbye heaven, hello hell. I have been to both, and still I choose hell.

Still, troubled mind. Be still and watch and ask and don’t take responsibility for what is not yours. And that would be everything.

Peeves for pets

It’s almost as though every single pet peeve of mine has been given me to see that there is no reason to have them. What am I supposed to do? It looks as though I am giving in to it, no longer resisting it, just becoming a part of it. It seems the only way to maintain my sanity.

Nothing to fear

I gladly make the ‘sacrifice’ of fear. (ACIM Lesson 323) Gladly. I’m trying. Truly.

Being light was easy. Going home is hard. Home is the one with the stories. Home is laden with fear. There are no ‘what ifs’ with light. With home, there are so many.

The biggest one for me is: what if this is what it’s always going to look like? What if it’s all chaos from here? What if the floor never gets tidy? What if everything breaks down? What if I can never afford more than this? What if I’m only ever walking around with last week’s paycheck? What if? Well? What if? Looking from here, I can see that hey, what if? It just doesn’t matter. First show me a problem, and then we can give your fears some credence. So far I haven’t seen a problem. You’re surviving perfectly well as is. What more do you need? Why would it need to change? And there is no answer for this. None. I could live like this for the rest of my life, so there is nothing to fear. I may not choose to. Other options may be given me, and they may take me in other directions, and all I need do is watch and see.

There is nothing to fear. There is no ‘sacrifice’ to make. Just give it up, let go and watch. It’s bound to be very entertaining. Certainly has been so far. You’re not in the entertainment business for nothing!

No competition

I have noticed that when there is no thought of competition (separation), everything goes so smoothly and I am successful. The moment I acknowledge that competition exists, everything falls apart around me – tumbling dice, a falling tower – and all of a sudden there are so many people better than me and I don’t stand a chance. Ah, separation. Give it acknowledgement and it will appear to exist. Give it no credence and it just fades away, to dust.

I love it. Such a fun game when it looks like a game, and so fun to watch from another level when it doesn’t. Always fun, only there seem to be so many times when it doesn’t feel at all like it.

And that is where I am a contradiction. There is the self that knows it to be what it is and can just watch it. That’s all it knows: this is this now. And then there’s the one that thinks he knows so much else, and he suffers. Every time I think I get it: contraction on the way; every time I think I know what it’s all about: ouch; every time I know nothing and am open to anything: success, joy, peace!

Which would I choose? The answer is obvious: much of the time I choose the former (when I think I have a choice, this is what I do), and some of the time the latter chooses me (that is what happens in choiceless awareness).

So yeah: I would choose the former, while the latter would choose me.

I guess it’s that simple.

Breaking down

No running water, kids passive smoking, nothing getting done about anything except by me. That’s what it looks like right now, and I’m frustrated. I feel the resentment brewing, and every little whine, every piece E puts in the jigsaw puzzle while everything gets done around her, it all just builds on that resentment.

What am I missing here? Where did the picture go all fuzzy? How can it go from that to this? Why do I think it matters?

Help me now. Help me through this. Help me see why I would want to be here. Just help me. Tell me why I chose this, please.

Now the mess seems impossible. It all seems impossible, yet the truth of it is I’m sitting snugly in bed writing, music wafting up from downstairs, no demands being made on me whatsoever. Nothing. There is nothing to it in this moment. As usual, it’s just the story of a past and future that kills the mood.

I can give up but what was never real. My thoughts are not real. They are just thoughts, dreams. And at the moment when I can’t seem to give them up – I suffer. The whole world becomes impossible and I spiral into frustration, resentment, recrimination, on the inevitable route to depression.

I do not want this! I only want to be free. I am being given this to see that I can be free anywhere, and that is a gift. I am being given this to be shown that nothing ever matters. I am being given this to learn about ordinariness. I am being given this.

Steady stream

What I notice is that the moment I try to define it, it becomes ‘me’. And as I simply experience it, it seems completely limitless.

And outside, a steady stream of wind blows beyond a gush, before a roar. Just a steady stream, like a river outside my window, rapids outside my door. This is an exceptionally early spring. For now. We had a quite early winter, and now it seems spring is upon us. Let’s await the next offering of the weather gods.

Where I'm not

So here I am again, sitting, writing, wondering what comes next. Being here as best I can and noticing I’m not. Sitting is such a benefit in that regard – makes it so easy to see where I’m not.

The other side of peace

My freedom lies on the other side of peace. Somewhere, through that dark emptiness, in a place I haven’t had the courage to go, lies my freedom. Somewhere over there, all is limitless and we are one and this never happened. Somewhere.

Whoever wrote Somewhere Over the Rainbow was onto something. Listen to the lyrics – it’s somewhere beyond peace, is what they’re talking about.

At the moment it’s only glimpses. Glimpses of how it could be always – how it is always – and glimpses of how to get there. At the moment, peace is a meditative exception; when I have broken through, peace becomes the humdrum norm – unshatterable, unbreakable.

For now it is easy to break and so am I. For now I have more work to do. For now my job is to be this and to experience pain and to suffer and inflict suffering on others. That is my job, as little as I might like it.

Speaking of nothing

How can one speak of nothing? The very first word is ‘something’. The very first word is a step away, and then it just gets further removed with every word, every syllable, every single letter, until all that is left is a bunch of meaningless scribble and me thinking I am someone again. Me thinking I am me again.

Who am I? I am nobody. I am you and you and you and me, and together we are nobody: the sum of the parts is nothing.

Only this

There is a deep, unalterable peace at the heart of all this, and it is eternal. Nothing else exists. Everything else is the dream.

Oh, what a dream. It has taken me so many places. So many more places than this body has been. It has been in outer space; under sea; it has delved deep into the past and projected far into the future. It has been quite a creative affair.

And now this. The empty eternity of peace. Just for an instant, a glimpse. And a glimpse is enough to remind me – for now – of what I have always known: none of this is real. I fell asleep and dreamt of many things, and when I awake everything will be as it always was. Eternity.

A hornet awakes and tries to escape through the thick glass, and I see that’s what I’ve been trying to do all this time. Such an open space, and I keep beating my head against the glass. No wonder I’m sore, no wonder I suffer. The freedom is everywhere, and I keep searching for the pain.

Today I take direction. From now, I take direction. Those simple directions faded in the fog, and today the sky is clear and the signposts loom large: Do this; do nothing; now, do this. Breathe. Reflect – not too long! Be! See. Watch.

And I do, and there is nothing for my mind to think about, and this is peace. There is nothing to do right now but this. Nothing to be. Only this.

And I watch. And I am reminded to play. I am reminded that there is nothing important, nothing to frown about, that there never was a reason to take life – anything – seriously. And I recall seeing me frown and finding how funny that was. And I am relaxed. I am home. For this instant, I am home.

Help is on its way

Home is the light. And home beckons with its beacon and it is not my concern whether those around me choose to suffer or not. When they cry for help, it is the kind thing to answer them; and when they cry for attention, that is just a cry for help. Whenever they cry out in anger or in pain; whenever they attack or defend; whenever they openly show their suffering, that is just a cry for help. And help is on its way. Salvation. All I need do is open up and let the decisions make me and my response will be perfect every single time.

It never happened

I am told I have come for the salvation of the world. (ACIM Lesson 319) Why? What could this achieve? It is saved anyway. It doesn’t exist. I guess I have come for this realization. I appear to come, come and come again until ‘I’ see that it never happened. And that is the salvation of the world: it begins and ends with me.

So play

The obvious corollary of ‘it doesn’t matter’ is ‘so play!’ I’ve been missing this. Play! It doesn’t matter.

And then there’s the question of, if it doesn’t matter, why bother? Well, if none of this is real – which is why it doesn’t matter – wouldn’t I prefer to be living a happy dream? Sure, it doesn’t matter if I’m unhappy and struggling – that’s my job for the time – only, is that what this one wants to experience? Is this one enjoying it or not? Only in my dream of specialness could I allow myself to be unhappy.

Process

Piece by piece; moment by moment; step by step. Process. It’s all a process, and this is but a step within it, just another moment. A collection of moments in an instant, and here I am. No pain in the moment, only in the story, and boy, there’s so many stories – building, accumulating, dominoing, growing. Storytime is here again, and there is peace in this moment without it. Peace for a moment, an instant.

You see, I saw the Buddha on the road and I didn’t kill him. Wish I did now, and slowly I am strangling him. Slowly I am learning not to know again. Slowly I am beginning to understand nothing. Slowly the fog lifts and I see again. And then blindness sets in and it hurts all the more, because I saw the Buddha.

The anger brews and cooks my jaw into a clench, moves to the hands and tightens the whole body; winding, winding until SNAP! it bursts open with irrationality. Quite a scene, something to watch, to witness, something I don’t understand.

I saw it happening all day yesterday, it exhausted me. It just built and built and built until, well, off it went and I was left wondering what exactly just happened.

The warmth of the fire barely penetrates, barely reaches my flesh through the clothes. And still I thaw: hands warmer now, toes cold, legs wanting more than a tartan flannel. And my throat is salty, chewy phlegm surrounded by walls of red. I am home, and home is cold. Warming slowly to our presence, inviting us back to an unelectrical embrace.

No electricity. Too much wind for it to keep flowing. Dark nights. Flashlights. Waterless. No pump, you see.

How dependent we are on the undependable.

With home heading straight at me now, I see it all unfold. Now I know the game that has been playing me, and it meets me with understanding while I flail about in frustration at having missed the obvious for so long. A pawn diving back into the action after a brief moment in the master’s hand, seeing the board with perfect overview vision.

It is a funny game, life. So funny to watch the players and their earnestness, none understanding that they’ve already won; none seeing that there is nothing to do but this. Nothing left but to watch and play. Billions of little children thinking the game is real; believing this is bad, that is good; pretending to understand and be grown up while feeling like little children lost in a man’s world.

This isn’t a man’s world. It’s not even a world. This isn’t anything but a chance to see what this looks like. And we’re all doing such a perfect job at finding out. You may be right, you may be wrong, you may be mistaken: it doesn’t matter, it’s all absolutely perfect.

I'm in the Bahamas with E to get a visa to stay in the States a while longer. Here's my photo. Do you think they'll let me stay?