In the End there is just Life,
unfolding
and flowing
and flowering
in the eternal stillness
of the timeless Now.
.
Whilst in our heads
we live out countless lives:
the central actor in a soap-opera of
battles, victories, defeats,
gains, losses, highlights and disasters:
a commentary whispered in the ear . . . . .
.
“All-of-It” a curated dream of specialness,
flimsy, superficial and irrelevant
in the vastness and silence
and peace and simplicity
and deep rest/surrender
of “Just This”.
.
No Doer needed,
not even a phantom witness,
to register and record everything.
The “I Am”, closer than close
is the final barrier to fall
into the unfolding, just part of the pattern.
.
The subliminal tightness of the chest,
holding on to being the key,
the centre of it all,
the axle of the turning wheel,
the last grip on an imagined point of reference
is gently eased and there is only floating . . . . .
.
The insistent ‘need to know’ has dissolved
into the warm and generous embrace
of the endless unknown
gently revealing itself
as the ever-present origin
of forever perfect new-ness.