Good grief, what was that?

How blessed we are to be alive.
The only thing I keep remembering is that I keep forgetting that.
OHHHH the irony of it.

Is it about you, me or the space? It's all about me, ducky, of course!

How much pain I cause myself just by the way I think. I think things are real, then act as if they are, reinforce what I think is real, those things appear to be that way all the time and then it and I get rigid...particularly across the shoulders and neck.

What if we are the key to peace.

How can things be peaceful if I am not peaceful? If the only thing over which I imagine I have control is me - how about I start building peace from within?

That's my work.

With love

J
x

What is?

There are several things I could be doing.
I feel scattered by these things
House, garden, leadership, the Work, Project, earning a living
are these really different?
How is being scattered really helping?

The space wants simplicity - or is that me - or both of us?
Things may or may not be complex - but simply being with what is makes even complexity simple.
Where is this going?
Here
I suppose
Ramble
Ramble

Can zen come creeping?

If you see the Buddha, kill him - Zen Koan

I am delighted to be bombarded with examples of how reality is an illusion, a fabrication and delusion that separates us from what is. In fact, is my delight just an attachment?

Anyway, reality is an illusion, perception is reality, the very notion of reality is an illusion and takes us away from a moment.

This one

This one

t
h
i
s

o

n

e


and what takes us way from this moment is that we are reading these letters and thinking we know what they mean. They are pixels, perhaps.

What release to realise that the only thing that gives form to particles is the space between them.

that moment was written in white, between those lines.

Did you mistake the space for emptiness and rush to the next particles?

The most profound book in the world is written in white on a white page.


Oh, this is FUN