Once the trash is picked up, there is no need to maintain the relationship with those who cleaned it up for we have done the whole of the project. When the purpose is to … find another trash pile, we stop being collaborative and become instead mercenary.
Living is an amazing thing. To return to a place, long ago a familiar haunt, and have it so changed that it is now all new. What an adventure. This morning is that kind of trip. To begin again in a new idea that is actually an old idea that is now come around again. ... What is imagined... I imagine the work of finding a couple of solutions that are simple and clear. With power it is the storage issue. The power itself is abundant and constant. The issue is the storage. How to store, in slow and deep cells, that which is produced in the day and may be needed in the night. To provide simple light in the dark and then when not needed, to allow for cycling in slow and clear simple form. The wide variation is that which demands things. If it slows down, then the demand is more clear and the recharge also. Then to water. We are surrounded by water and yet it is held in forms that are not usable. To make that source usable in ways that are modular and allow for small and affordable units to meet needs. As each need is met, the unit is limited. An integrated, modular response to a need. Simple.
There is a call to solution. Rising from within. A solution that is just the quiet moment of this time. Understanding that the waring factions would prefer to maintain a set of infrastructure ... no disruption. Just the demand that all support this worn out and fragile set of ties. To maintain the 'status' of what is with no heed to that which is becoming all around.
It is as if we are running the ship hard in the night. Fog all around. With the islands or icebergs so clear ... yet we still charge forward. The outcome is predictable. Just as lemmings over the cliff. It is not something to save. It is something to recognize. In that recognition is the simple act of stepping out of the flow and watching for a bit.
Then the new idea can arise.
There is just that little breeze. The breeze of change. When we step back and make room for that little breeze of change. When the door is suddenly open, the sail suddenly raised... It is a good thing. That little breeze. A wind in the door.
When 'we' use something that would not be appropriate in our own house or at our own table... then we have become the terrorists. The lizard brain. The ... re-actor. You should not have... What is that set of words saying? Just as when a friend, from her perspective says... oh come on... that is easy. In a moment when even breathing is not easy. In a moment when even breathing is not easy. And then, the characterization of ... you ran away. You failed me. You did not do that which was my expectation. That is the moment. The layered, reactive moment. It calls out in the cry of a babe ... wishing for arms of care. The moment of ... failed moment. The rejection moment. The moment of failure. Later, on the other side, breathing continues; or not. And the sun comes up, the oceans of wind roll over the earth. Reflection in a time, perhaps as this reflection, much later, a decade later. The warm moment from that time. Being fed on an early morning, sitting in a stair well and letting the meat juices roll down my neck. So good. That taste of food. Food for the soul. In all of the failures that were healed in that morsel of food. A gift from creation. A gift from God. In this moment, another healing. The healing of awareness to the sense of words as the lash of the cat. The lash of 'should' or 'should not' the lash of 'do' or 'don't' ... each in context, the expectant lash from the expectant expectation. The 'we' or 'us' in the dance of expectational relationship. The changing moment of link to lash or lash to link; for the shift, the healing, the change, it can go both ways in the blink of an eye.
A friend came to me and offered a pearl of great price. That pearl, representing all that the friend was, all the great position that they held, all that was of worth to their mind. At least that was the image that was portrayed in the pearl. The cost to me was to walk and be servant to this 'friend' for but a series of years. To hold up, to aid in mounting and dismounting that friend's horse. To be mentored in those things that my friend was well practiced.
At the end of that time, my friend said that they would then pass the mantle of that pearl to me. I would but need to enter the arena and claim the pearl from those others who would also be desiring of this mantle, this pearl.
I sank to my knees in thanks to this friend but said what was being offered, was too great a burden for me to bear for I would then be trying to serve two masters. The friend and the fickle winds of my own desires. In that severing two I would be no good servant, partner or friend to this friend. In my humble failure to be on the same path as he, I would be a dis-service.
I again thanked my 'friend' and then rose and continued on that path that called to me. The path that only I could walk. The path that was lit by the rising sun. With wind at my back and sorrow for not being able to serve such a great offer of gift... knowing too that the gift would demand that which I could not give... I walked into that path that was where I am going. The dear 'friend' who was on a different path... he was not going with me. I grieved that 'friend' and also celebrated the path. Knowing that who would join me would be revealed.
How long is forever? Depends where the observation of forever is seen from... a line, a partnership, new project, long standing project... interminable project... a place where there is no end in sight... where the world is forever changed... a song that sings the soul...
All good places. All, in some way, a forever.
How long is forever? My forever? Your forever? Which forever are we talking about?
How long is forever?
The coffee pot is the perfect ... it is perfect.
Yesterday's magic of rising song line, coming through many different instruments, hearing aspects of Gathering in each voice of each instrument... The combination of gathered voice and instrument even in the absence of the physical, it is that magic of harmony, sung, practiced and practiced again and again. New each moment in that rehearsed and practiced. Magic, yesterday, today and tomorrow. Even in this moment too.
I didn't put the tuner away.
... sitting here, just now, I realized that I didn't put the tuner away. After sitting and playing so many fine instruments, settling completely into the master class of the room, soaking up every aspect of the great players, the great teachers, the great builders, the minds that all come together in that place; when I left, I didn't put the tuner back where it belongs. And that ... is the thought that jumps into my mind? That is the great learning? That is the best of all that time in the master class? I didn't put the silly tuner back? Wow!
I am sure that they didn't mind... funny that I do. And I listen. It is that little voice. One must always put it all away so that the sacred place is honored. What an amazing lesson.
Thanks to both Eric and James. And to the master class that was taught yesterday. Please excuse my sacrilegious sin of not putting the tuner away. I'll say some hail Marys' a practice ... till the next time. And smile when I remember the class for the best of the teaching.
And yes, every instrument that I touched is more in tune than before I touched it. The warmth of the room, the day and the treasure of all the knowledge that was being passed on in tone, texture, and amazing teaching... that warmth remains with me always.
What, that could be absurd, has become normal? What, if taken in a context where there is time and soft breathing and a bit of distance, what? And when, in that flash, there is some anomaly that now looks absurd, what then?
In each moment of daily living, when an absurd moment is brought into light, there is a great chance to engage the moment. It is from within. When a comment, given in full understanding of the moment, is reacted to in such vehement, reactive, shouting, snarling ... reaction, is that absurd? Yes.
And, in that moment, there is a great window into the very drive of all who come into that moment. A knowing that there is not to do but just to be. A great chapter moment.
Then there was that day when, my boss asked for something which was not to be given. And on that day, there was a shift. In that shift, they graduated from boss to something else. And shortly after, it was no longer boss. And shortly after that, it was nothing. But, it has taken years to allow that 'nothing' to become a reality in each breath. And that is the gift of contemplation. The release, when it happens, is all of a sudden 'known.'
When the holding of the sacred pushes that being in the moment to a place other than being, displacement, then the sacred has become 'other' and in that 'other' there can be no sacred. When that which is my own sense of the sacred displaces or is displaced, then the same has occurred. There can be no sacred in that which displaces presence. Presence and being are that which is sacred. To be in presence, to be ... there is sacred. And it is all and every and in all and every. In that delight, can a child find sacred in a plastic box. Can the elderly find delight in the play of the light in the dimming of the sight, in the moment of clarity in the glass. There is the sacred in every being of moment.
I know what the system desires.
That moment when, in a flash of, a wave of, a wind or soft breeze, clarity strikes.
The child's declaration of desire to know all. That child-like in believing that in the all known there will be some magic that is then known. So, that needing of a child to 'know' everything. It relieves all fear to know everything. Then, in that knowing, there are no surprises. For - everything is known.
And, in the eyes of that same child, it must be known in the child's way of knowing. Which allows the child then to be the all powerful leader of the knowing. It is that place of ... I know it all and so I need not fear anything for it is all known to me.
What then is the revelation? It is that knowing that... in our moment, perhaps it is all who demand this knowing. In it the imposition of the needs of individual knowing drown the child's dance in the need to know. Which really is the need to control.
Control through knowing. In the spirit of all safety. If we know all, then we can keep all safe. We need not fear even death in that kind of knowing. Ah, to fear not even death. There is the rub.
A quiet and warm moment woke the morning. It is before even the first movement on the outside roads. The birds still sleep. The coasting wind is dropped to the lightest zephyr. A bare breath. Darkest hour before dawn.
In this clarity, waken moment. All the earth is paused. And breathing in. Now breathing out. Ticking clock, the wound pendulum in serenity swing.
A complete moment, as every moment is complete. It only needed me here, in wakeful present beating heart. It would have passed with or without this heart's sitting desire.
Nice to have shared it though. Nice to have passed by in this moment. For it is a truly quiet and warm moment. In the waking day. The earth did pause. And in the pause, a sharing smile, as breaking dawn, did break upon my face.
There is a quality in a note, that quality of the first ... the starting ... as it begins to vibrate. It is almost felt more than heard. In Gathering, with Gathering, it is that starting that is part of the sharing. The felt before heard that is attuning as the harmony rises. It is not aspired to or something that is attained. It is a felt sense that is the mastery in Gathering.
That moment when, at the end, the vibration of the beginning is still there. For, one is the other as the other is the one. In this chord is all chords. In this Gathering is all creation.
To be a part of every song and this song. That is, Gathering. There is no greater gratitude than to know the steps that brought us here to this Gathering are all and every gathering shared before. This is that 'next' moment. And in it is all and all.
It is a quality, the starting. It is the alpha and the omega. It is kind friends. It is and is and is.
Starting at the end.
The winter storms have cleared the burned boat from the beach. The rising water has scoured away the soft sand where I laid my head. Now, looking back, there is just a deep canyon, a wild stream running down the lowest of its depths. I can taste the wild water in that stream even now; all of these steps later. There is something fine in the light that shows me the steps that have brought me here; luminous.
I wish that this journey, well parts anyhow, could have been avoided. Some of the pain perhaps left for not. And yet, it would not be a journey. It would be that which started at the end. The wild ride that was just a picture of the triumphant completion. Then it would be just a painting of a dream.
While the memory may, some mornings, feel like a dream. The soles of my feet tell me that the walk was many steps. The journey a real decent, climb, swim, and even a set of burned boats, well used for a time, and then on each beach, burned as pyre to a complete moment.
This moment, standing now at the saddle before stepping into the next valley of life's path, this looking back to that wonder of the walk thus far is a moment of contemplative gift. Complete Christmas. And then the child is born. All the world is changed. The path of a new generation begun. In loving arms of this journey, a new journey is begun.
So, as one begins, another must end. It is the gift of all living, dying, loving and life. In gratitude, with a clear moment, so it is and so it is. And it is good.
Problems to be overcome or projects to be done? Which place is a start. A hike is not a problem. When I think on the math that I love, I know that the most fun was to look on each challenge as a project. Knowing that it described some set of interactions in an elegant way that was only an invitation to see it in new light. The language was and is that of 'solving' problems. To remove the impediment to the solution. For that is the challenge. The impediment.
Yet, that is not what mathematics is. It is the elegant description of the universe. It is, to those who engage the language, a poem of creation's glory. Such is cosmology.
Listening last week to the dialogue of leadership. The 'solving' of 'problems' ... in that the 'fix' the 'help' the ... whatever the language is... it becomes the removal of impediment. When that impediment is another part of community, then the language stops being that of community and becomes that of refuse, trash, label and diminishment. It labels so that the removal is not of something that is as I am but is of that 'other' who is different, crazy, hysterical, or even a danger to this 'better' or more reasonable ...
Until we can move, once again, past this positional stance and engage the whole of community, the repeat of the cycle of, and dance with ... it is perennial. And in that knowing, there is something to smile about.
It is a glorious day of wind, sun and fall. A glorious day indeed.
Eclectic - With a hint of pepper