Renunciation of Thought

I have not been showing up for writing much this week. After stepping away I see that is the only reason I’ve not written; I’ve not shown up. In order to write that is all that is truly required. In any facet of life, that is what is required—to show up. I have had plenty of experiences, hopes, and disillusions this week. All could have been written down, but alas, showing up to these pages did not occur. 

Here I am now though to say it’s okay, it’s meant to be this way. Perhaps all that was, was not meant to be materialized, yet, or ever, or not in this way. Much of what I thought and expressed just last night with my love, until 1:30 am, has disappeared into the source of idea and thought. 

Thinking back now, I do believe my late night, early morning, and random afternoon talks could be an interesting read or listen, if ever I did decide to record and put a podcast or script out there—but then, to try and hold onto and salvage such spontaneous thoughts, does this weaken the experience and moment? Would we be too filtered when knowing we’d be listened to? Am I filtering now even? Though these pages are strictly for me, in theory and practice, I do sometimes share, and perhaps plan to now. Does this affect what thoughts my hands do write down? Where do these thoughts come from, I’ve been wondering?

 I don’t know the mechanism for the beginning of my musings. Mustn’t this all be from source? How does one take credit for any thought and why are these the thoughts that have chosen me? The more I think about thought, the more I would rather sink into a feeling, elicited by stillness in sound to stir what cannot be seen, only experienced internally. Just to think of that stillness illuminates more thoughts, or rather questions—Why do we insist to say, “I think” or “I believe” or “I know”? What makes us so sure we do? As well, what part of us is the “I”? What part of me is included when I say “We”? Is this the entirety of all “I’s” together? Can “I” in our language even be possessive? What about the “non-I” of others and ourselves—which “We” does that form? Do thoughts reach, form, process, stir, and express from both the “I” of us, and the “non-I” of us? 

When do we decide to renounce a thought and how do we know it was or wasn’t ours? Why this morning am I asking so many questions perhaps without answers? 

We humans really like to think we know all. Can we? Do we? If we sit still long enough, all of us, in silence, amidst singing birds, whispering winds, and gentle streams, could we all in union understand and hear all? Would the ultimate thought from Wisdom’s source stir in one moment to awake our minds, bodies, souls, hearts, bones, cells, breath, and spirit? Could we silently burst into an apocalypse? Revelation? Eden? Heaven? 

No more rumbling cars, factories working, jets streaming, boats forging, mail delivering, cell phones buzzing, humans blah blah blahing, even just for 24 hours, or even just 24 minutes, what would happen?

What new thoughts would arise? How many? What would we be moved to? 

I wonder. 

I wonder because I am. I wonder because I am created from mystery. 

As the wind weaves chilly cold and refreshing embrace, these words given to me weave more wonder as I write from my wandering mind, stopping now to rest as a willow and turn to stillness and stretching, to expand and listen in this wake.