I’ve found myself experiencing some wonderment recently, at how pleasurable simply sitting still is, and doing absolutely nothing, (other than remaining in awareness).
Doing nothing?
How much of my life is caught up in doing? How much of it is to do with getting somewhere, achieving something, or trying to somehow alter what actually is?
Simply sitting, resting the body, resting the mind, and allowing what is to simply be in awareness – what an amazing thing that is. How little there actually is to say about it … how little can be expressed in words. How do you convey an inner experience, one which is utterly intangible and ineffable, into words that somehow convey something to another being?
I don’t know, and guess that’s part of why I’ve not posted here much over the last year. Seems like it goes in cycles, sometimes feeling a great desire to share, to attempt to cross the divide. Other times, the inclination is to remain with what is, and just allow it to be what it is.
The waves and the ocean are what they are. Can we taste them for what they are? Can we see appearances for what they are and follow their luminous flickering path in awareness?
No direction in this blog, just like there is no direction in mind, in experience.
Just what is.
Suchness.
How beautiful simply sitting can be.
