Peace. Is it the absence of activity? The silence and space between action? Perhaps. It is also the truth within the quiet calm. The love and centeredness that patiently exists, available at any time. Peace.
What do you hear when it is silent?
Reflections on life, truth, faith, love, introspection, and transformation.
Peace. Is it the absence of activity? The silence and space between action? Perhaps. It is also the truth within the quiet calm. The love and centeredness that patiently exists, available at any time. Peace.
What do you hear when it is silent?
The great Bruce Lee once said, “Become like water, my friend.”
Adaptive, strong, patient, powerful, peaceful, natural, beautiful, vital water.
The only thing water is missing? Awareness. I would add to Bruce Lee's invitation accordingly.
“Become like water, my friend... and let yourself flow both within and without your awareness.”
This morning, for the first time in months, I felt the warmth of the sun without feeling a severe chill of winter.
Inside my life, away from the weather, I am facing more coldness and obstacles than ever before. Yet I know that deep down I am who I am. My state of emotion, high or low, does not define me. It is merely a state through which I pass to better know myself on life's journey.
My experiences of weather and emotion show me who I am and who I am not. Awareness brings me to the truth beneath the surface of experience.
I have been fortunate in my life to never have struggled with any serious form of addiction. But I have seen it in many forms. Perhaps even I have struggled with it in the form of unhealthy food, but that seems to pale in comparison to what others experience.
I find myself wondering; What does addiction reveal about the mind-body relationship?
Could it be possible that unhealthy addictions, from heroin to fatty foods, are a product of the mind's shallow wants dominating the body's deep needs? Perhaps addiction solidifies once the mind has pushed the body so far that the body submits, even while knowing that doing so is against it's own best interest.
The hope inside me says that perhaps the love available to us all can somehow heal these broken patterns. Open the mind to love, so that it can let the body once again choose what is truly healthy and what is a damaging indulgence.
I have been fortunate in my life to never have struggled with any serious form of addiction. But I have seen it in many forms. Perhaps even I have struggled with it in the form of unhealthy food, but that seems to pale in comparison to what others experience.
I find myself wondering; What does addiction reveal about the mind-body relationship?
Could it be possible that unhealthy addictions, from heroin to fatty foods, are a product of the mind's shallow wants dominating the body's deep needs? Perhaps addiction solidifies once the mind has pushed the body so far that the body submits, even while knowing that doing so is against it's own best interest.
The hope inside me says that perhaps the love available to us all can somehow heal these broken patterns. Open the mind to love, so that it can let the body once again choose what is truly healthy and what is a damaging indulgence.
Which came first, love or openness to love?
It may seem like a chicken or egg question, but I believe the answer to be clear. The love of God, or the universe or spirit, is always available. My practice of opening to it makes it a reality in my own life, but it was always there for me.
Which came first, love or openness to love?
It may seem like a chicken or egg question, but I believe the answer to be clear. The love of God, or the universe or spirit, is always available. My practice of opening to it makes it a reality in my own life, but it was always there for me.
I lived most of my life from one set of intentions and commitments to another. Seeking to determine myself into the human being I wanted to be.
Only in my mid-30s did I discover what it means to build a practice. Building a practice is not a set of commitments. It is a contextual decision to strive for something that is never fully achieved. I can commit to meditate every day for 90 days, but until I invest in the practice of meditation my mind won't let go enough to let me hear the silent peace of my heart.
Commitments are strategic. Practices are aspirational. What practices could you bring into your life? What commitment might you release in favor of building a practice?
I listened to a book summary on quantum theory today as I walked to church. What really struck me was the quantum theory of a “multiverse”, and specifically how it intersects with the concept of feeling love.
Could there be a multiverse outcome where I feel fully loved all the time? Perhaps that is what people have meant for generations when they have referred to heaven. Part of my faith tells me this constant state of love is the outcome I am headed for in the afterlife. Not because I deserve it or went to the right church, but because love is there for me at the core of my being.
Efficiency or cutting corners?
From a young age I was rewarded for efficiency. At 10 I optimized my paper-route for collections revenue. At 15 my goal in school was 90%, because that got me the the same “A” as 100%. At 25 my algebra lesson plans were maximized for student learning in each and every minute.
This morning I had a fleeting inclination to not make my bed, because it will be used again tonight. Wouldn't it be more efficient to leave it be?
In more instances than I care to count, I have delayed shaving my face for an extra day, because then I won't have to spend as much time with a razor in the mirror.
As the snow melts outside my window, these efficiencies have begun to reveal themselves as cutting corners.
I choose to make my bed because it starts my day out with order and simple ritual. I step up to the mirror to shave not because it is efficient, but because it is a simple way to take care of myself.
Truth is, the man in the mirror appreciates being seen and cared for. Even when it's not efficient. Especially when it's not cutting corners.