In the Forest: Beneath the Surface
Two.
We are ALL ageless.
What a lot to remember!
How do we do it?
With every second of contact, by the next we forget
Again and again
(Did I mention the part about it all being so TIRING? But ok, rewiring takes getting used to…)
There is a spirit of our age, you see:
forgetting is part of the deal,
because all that commotion, past and future all out of order
never mind the COLLECTIVE HYSTERIA closing in on our nervous systems…
a break from that is paramount,
so let us forgive ourselves a little indulgent amnesia.
An acknowledgment of peculiar difficulty
for this present being SO CLUTTERED—
we think ‘presence’ means being there for it all, taking care of it all, keeping sight of it ALL…
(yeah, ‘tiring’!)
but yes and no, because unless we ALREADY BRING PRESENCE TO THE PICTURE
we just can’t.
We do not know how to attend to any of that work responsibly.
Then what is presence?
Presence is forgetting!
…well not really, but kind of.
Think of a magnet that has never been turned off. It just keeps clinging and clinging and clinging to all those first charges entering its range…
Where is there any room for remembrance in there?
Shut that thing down and install some governance.
(…yeah, easier said…)
So remembering can even be an option.
For, Getting…
Before we get, we for-get
Like a preparation.
A concession stand on the concourse of mayhem
(or maybe a restroom)
a reset, step back
reprieve into the unseen
where time drops the plot
so we might wake up on the sandy shore
lungs full of sunrise
that timeless spark of recollection
that home is right here.
Always.
Presence is homeland capacity.
Forgetting may be a transit point,
but only until the deal is done!
Because remembering is the real covenant.
REMEMBERING is our contract with this sojourn of separation
this push-pull universe we all dreamed of teaching us love.
So we ‘start’ by looking at what has washed up with us on the beach.
Wherever we are.
Trinkets, driftwood, other ‘random’ wreckage…
memories of sentiment, relationship, purpose
…breadcrumbs.
The patterns we said meant nothing
inside there, outside here
showered all over those shifting, laughing sands
transient kicks in the gut
screaming at us to STOP and pick up that obvious neglected trail,
acknowledge the invisible momentums as personalized intelligence,
merciful, firstline reminders
that maybe something lying around here besides us actually belongs to us
and is our responsibility.
We feel what is real.
TRUTH is vibration in the body
that will not let us go.
Our ferry through the forgetfulness
carrying us to certain places, certain moments and events
waypoints entire confluences of ourselves have been steaming for since eternity
radiating breakthrough
and the single naked hope that for once we might drop all the pretense and SEE
and remember
and know.
Choosing what sticks—and when to let it go—is our journey into freedom.
~