Before sitting down to type, I sat by the river, taking it all in: the sun cresting the ridge above town and as the rays warmed the ground and river bank around me, I noticed a subtle breeze moving about in the green grasses yellowing with winter's movement into the Animas Valley. I saw the plants regain some of the vitality that the cold night may have sapped; I witnessed the sun's reflection in the ripple of the river; the relative silence of my conscious thoughts, and the subsequent foresight of my insecurities, future-tense, displaying on the walls of my mind.
Sitting long, longer in silence the lay of the ground in front of my seated form seems to fold closer, no longer does the river feel further away; I am nearing its edge - the roll of the water on its course. A course that has carved our natural landscapes for hundreds of thousands of years, uniformly and unmolested by industrial creep and human desire. The progression unfolding, meeting resistive objects with a general sense of nonviolence and nonchalance in most given moments of time.
How is it, then, that when nature's destructive coercion roars its necessary head, altering en-mass any and all objects in its path, that we feel obliged, necessitated by a sense of status-norm, to return our presumptions of the natural environment and society's boon to what they were before, pre-ruination? Is it fear that holds us in patterns of the known?
I notice my tendency to judge, to predict - as to unconsciously prepare a reaction - should such things occur, future-tense. I then consider how, through peer feedback and introspection, my energy, my truth is less for the deception of my judgments and more for living in the moment and observing the dialogue that precludes an open and sound right to entertain living love-forward first.
I recognize through contemplation that sometimes I wish, in a subconscious space bubbling forth into higher cognition, to heavily influence what I'd like to see happen. I wonder where this comes from? Was it born or bred into my behaviors? Was it something I've studied and perfected in order to get what I selfishly desire? I tip my hat to acknowledge thoughts about my Ego's conveyance of desire, surely it knows what it wants to the point of confusing, distracting and belittling other higher thoughts of sense and cognition. And what of intuition's loving encouragement, parceled out between and sometimes just under the louder volume of created thought? Where does it fit into this wish to heavy-hand the outcome before me?
And what of the heart?
The rhythm disturbing the air near my ears courses through my body - like an electric current in rapid transport - mirrored in the tap of my feet on the floor. I regard this movement as energy and recognize this other part of me; the body. Within this resides a highly complex and coordinated system of movement and structure, input and output, and energy - always transferring amongst the tiniest of imperceptible molecules; for we cannot create nor destroy - only use what is there, existing in the universe.
Brings me back to the heart, the universe, energy; all of these 3 inter-relying on one another. The complexities of it all. With heart lending truth to our concepts of ourselves and others and the world around us, the universe providing the opportunities, and energy serving as the direct link between my heart and yours, and our universe. Prosperity and achievement - call it an evolution of love over Ego and selfishness - resulting.
Though, does it not bode best when we are responsible for our energies, dualistic or multiplistic? Our actions or inactions? Our desire to change, to judge, to feel powerful and demonstrative within ourselves and around others?
A blue heron flying over head disturbs my thoughts. I blink once, twice, noticing that some cars move on the far bank of the river. Had I not noticed them, nor their sound, before? Readjusting in my seated position, I look side to side, up into the clouds of sky above stretching and appreciate the beauty around me and within the shared thoughts of consciousness. Sitting down finally to type, to share, to paint upon the canvas that is expression of life and living.
Alan
