Life slows down out here in the boondocks. One becomes earthier and the rhythms and times of the earth deepens this adventure, this journey we know as our experience of life. It's hard though - at times. When the stressors of work and the requirements of survival and all one's hopes and desires and one's fears and anxieties combine. The mind tends to wonder, it tends to drift. Thoughts spin new thoughts, fears begat fears, and the mind sinks back down into that mire of mud, into that web of illusion, getting lost in the past or the future and being mindless of the here and now. Yep! Life slows down but not necessarily the mind and that's essential. I think. To being present. To being present to one's self being present to the bare awareness of nature. It's elements, it's moods, it's beat, it's pulses and times.
We live in what I happily refer to as "fly-over" country. Planes fly so far above us that while we see their trails and glints, we never hear them. "Fly-over" country is quiet country. Its wide expanses of land, mountains and clouds. Out here, one can hear the "sound of silence." Out here, one can follow the path of the sun from rise to set and mark the change of the seasons with notches on a western deck. Out here, one can learn to slow down. One can learn how to be nurished by the mud and one can practice unspinning the mind's many paths of illusion/delusion/confusion. One can begin to experience clarity of mind as one learns to observe and note the proclivities and tendencies of a mind.
And it is hard. To be present. Fully present in the moment to self to other to surrounds and to the experience of a moment. I still wonder how "moments" are defined. Like an "hour" is measured in minutes. 60 Minutes. An hour. Seems to me those "moments" which have and will define our lives are timeless and more frequent than not if one remains awake and aware, in the moment, the here and the now and not in the sweet bye and bye. I am experiencing (with the help of mind and mood altering substances) that when the mind is going, when it is off spinning its stories, its tales, its webbed narratives primarily to it's self because to everyone else its the "same old story" and everyone is tired of hearing it except the one still mindlessly repeating it. Over and over. As one grows older there is "no (more) time to wonder in the mire." (Come'on baby light my fire....).
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Minute by Minute counting down to 60
The phenomena of time fascinates me. The experiencing of time blows my mind! For years I have sworn off being tied to time. In the conventional sense. Wearing a watch, keeping track. Which is not to say that I don't pay careful attention to time. I do. I am rapt by pondering the nature of a "moment," by inquiring into the experience of time mindfully measured and playfully explored.
A teacher said: we live moment by moment and each moment is the same as every other moment. Meaning that each moment is equally precious. I cannot imagine living so intensly, I doubt I have the constitution or stamina for it. Imagine how exhausting it would be to be deeply into the sanctity of each "moment." Imagine how joyful, timeless, and fulfilling?
As we age by necessity we grow to understand time in multiple ways. We have felt the urgency of a second, and caught the twinkle of the eye. We have been absorbed into the magic of a moment, and been taken for a "magic carpet ride." We have all experienced moments which have changed us - changed our sense of self and moments in which we have transcended self and felt or sensed the presence of the Holy. We have observed the changing seasons many many times now, and no longer can we pretend that we have an unlimited number of seasons left. We understand that each life has its seasons and we appreciate this more as we cross into the autumn and winter of our own life and those of our loved one's.
Time grows shorter. Time becomes more precious. Time's use becomes more valuable. Make love not war!
I am fascinated by rhythm and rhythms. By the beat, by the pulse, by the gentle sway of rock and of soul. I feel I am in the autumn of my life and as of yet I do not know what rhythm (s) await me. Which one's will entice and captivate and which will take me to the doorway of the timeless.
I wonder, how long is a moment, I wonder how moments are most often measured. I do not know how I will feel until I actually arrive at 60. But suprizingly as I write at 59 and 51 weeks, dead broke money wise, but oh so rich in other more lasting treasures. I digress,
I wonder if I can capture via the photographic process some sense of time. A leaf falling. A bird singing.
Breeze carressing flesh and defusing aroma's as I take a breath. Aware that the moving of air into this body is equivalent to the breeze moving across the trees, the grass, the world as it exists for me, in this time of nearing 60 and in this space called Durango Colorado.
doc rob
A teacher said: we live moment by moment and each moment is the same as every other moment. Meaning that each moment is equally precious. I cannot imagine living so intensly, I doubt I have the constitution or stamina for it. Imagine how exhausting it would be to be deeply into the sanctity of each "moment." Imagine how joyful, timeless, and fulfilling?
As we age by necessity we grow to understand time in multiple ways. We have felt the urgency of a second, and caught the twinkle of the eye. We have been absorbed into the magic of a moment, and been taken for a "magic carpet ride." We have all experienced moments which have changed us - changed our sense of self and moments in which we have transcended self and felt or sensed the presence of the Holy. We have observed the changing seasons many many times now, and no longer can we pretend that we have an unlimited number of seasons left. We understand that each life has its seasons and we appreciate this more as we cross into the autumn and winter of our own life and those of our loved one's.
Time grows shorter. Time becomes more precious. Time's use becomes more valuable. Make love not war!
I am fascinated by rhythm and rhythms. By the beat, by the pulse, by the gentle sway of rock and of soul. I feel I am in the autumn of my life and as of yet I do not know what rhythm (s) await me. Which one's will entice and captivate and which will take me to the doorway of the timeless.
I wonder, how long is a moment, I wonder how moments are most often measured. I do not know how I will feel until I actually arrive at 60. But suprizingly as I write at 59 and 51 weeks, dead broke money wise, but oh so rich in other more lasting treasures. I digress,
I wonder if I can capture via the photographic process some sense of time. A leaf falling. A bird singing.
Breeze carressing flesh and defusing aroma's as I take a breath. Aware that the moving of air into this body is equivalent to the breeze moving across the trees, the grass, the world as it exists for me, in this time of nearing 60 and in this space called Durango Colorado.
doc rob
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Saturn Returns
60 is rapidly approaching and Saturn makes its final return, in the time of my life. Aches and pains and more and more complaints from these old bones and from my worn well flesh. In my mind I am only twenty five and life as it is now can be projected onwards. But that is not what is. What is is that this body i have so taken for granted for far too many years is aging. These molecules that aggragate around me in at least five dimensions have agreed to slowly let go. I know not where they go nor do I know where I go.
A friend gave me a gift of the image of life as "the river and the eddy." The eddy being all that is a phenomena - an object. an object-of-consciousness. And the river is the unconditional; the ground of all being; the one thought/one Mind; God.
I find it comforting and intuitively correct to hold the view of life as river and eddy. I'd like to think that the time ahead will be smooth and gentle. Truth is I do not know. Each day I ask god to grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. I pray for Equanimity and for Joy. It seems to be working - working in ways I could never have imagined. On we flow.........
This kind of practice deepens in and over time. Changes arise. One starts to recognize patterns. Patterns of behavior, of thought, and habitiual patterns of reactions and response. One starts to have insight into their own generic and particular eddies which make up the "streaming" that we are. All of us droplets of water - all of us oceans of light. Catching a falling leaf is equivalent to catching a falling star. Isn't it?
doc rob (a/k/a) the eccentric old coot
A friend gave me a gift of the image of life as "the river and the eddy." The eddy being all that is a phenomena - an object. an object-of-consciousness. And the river is the unconditional; the ground of all being; the one thought/one Mind; God.
I find it comforting and intuitively correct to hold the view of life as river and eddy. I'd like to think that the time ahead will be smooth and gentle. Truth is I do not know. Each day I ask god to grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. I pray for Equanimity and for Joy. It seems to be working - working in ways I could never have imagined. On we flow.........
This kind of practice deepens in and over time. Changes arise. One starts to recognize patterns. Patterns of behavior, of thought, and habitiual patterns of reactions and response. One starts to have insight into their own generic and particular eddies which make up the "streaming" that we are. All of us droplets of water - all of us oceans of light. Catching a falling leaf is equivalent to catching a falling star. Isn't it?
doc rob (a/k/a) the eccentric old coot
Ripples
I imagine being eye to eye with the water of a reflecting pool. I imagine mind as still and as clear as the water. I imagine tiny pebbles of kindness dropping into the waters of life by gentle hands - hands that know only how to wish well - hands that wish only to be moved towards touch in compassion.
I see and I feel these little pebbles being dropped and dropping into that reflecting pond, onto that mirror of mind, birthing natural rhythms and of couse the eddies and the ripples, those myriad interactions which aggregate around and us and within us. Where does one stop and one begin? Or is there such a thing as a beginning? At all? Imagine no beginning and no ending "imagine no religion too." Flickers of light dancing. Dancing upon any lake, any body of water, any and really, upon every-body. We are all water and light. Diamonds in the night. Diamonds dancing in the light.
Seems that no matter how many times I return to the same place that it is never the same space.... and ripples have effects. My intention is for my contribution to be kind and engaging and that my ripples be inspiring, challenging, creative, loving and wholesome. It is a work in progress.
doc rob
I see and I feel these little pebbles being dropped and dropping into that reflecting pond, onto that mirror of mind, birthing natural rhythms and of couse the eddies and the ripples, those myriad interactions which aggregate around and us and within us. Where does one stop and one begin? Or is there such a thing as a beginning? At all? Imagine no beginning and no ending "imagine no religion too." Flickers of light dancing. Dancing upon any lake, any body of water, any and really, upon every-body. We are all water and light. Diamonds in the night. Diamonds dancing in the light.
Seems that no matter how many times I return to the same place that it is never the same space.... and ripples have effects. My intention is for my contribution to be kind and engaging and that my ripples be inspiring, challenging, creative, loving and wholesome. It is a work in progress.
doc rob
What is Enlightenment?
I think I may be slightly delusional living in this time in this space in this mind and feeling as if enlightenment is nothing more or less than being alive in the moment, of being mindful of the "moment," (however a "moment" is defined or counted out in "time" or "breath), as if enlightenment is really such an ordinary state of being of simply being present to sensations, and movements, the touch of texture the dimensionality of form and shape the graphics of line and pattern and the feel and the story of color, of color as light, of color as depth as color of life and soul all mushed together with shadow and light, with holy spirit-holy body and Life!
Anyway..... I think enlightenment is really and truly so quite ordinary and mundane that we simply over look it. By thinking perhaps that it must be something grand, something supra-mundane, something magical and mystical we miss the invitation for our participation in the rhythms of life and the call to be part of the various levels of conditions arising simultaneously or nearly so as we live and move and have our being.
But if so, it is a "kind delusion." One that allows me to imagine and to actually feel and experience how good it feels to "drop pebbles of loving-kindness" into the world and observing how people's eyes, faces, and minds light up as the kindness moves upon them. It is a gift to be mindful of acts and words of loving-kindness. There is surprise and delight, and merriment, and now and then, a moment of awakening hits us like a Hallmark movie moment and we are transported and transfigured till POOF! Its gone! But not without leaving an imprint behind. Which begs the question: what sort of an imprint do I wish to leave behind?? Which further begs the question: can one mindfully and heartfully scatter, toss, and drop, enough pebbles of kindness into the mix of this multi-connecting rhythms of life and life's attendent responsibilities, disciplines, devotions, and deviations being all mushed about? To make a difference? Its a wonder ya know?
Its rather nice to take a stroll down Main St and think of others coming and going in kind ways; wishing other energies other entities good will and good heart and being open to opportunities. Looking to be a kindness to another. It feels good and it has repercussive effects. Seems that acts of kindness begat acts of kindness - reaping as we sow as we grow and as we share and connect with others from a gentle spacious space. From a place of compassion, ripples given from and ripples felt within the open heart.
One wonders where and how-come Christianity missed the boat. If perhaps the frightful hunger and need for power and control absorbed those who were in positions to make a difference way back when. Way back when Christianity was a path and a way of living rather than a mental game and a way of manipulating. A way of manipulating poltically, economically, regionally, and along class lines in order to maintain the status-quo of those who fear the most and would have the most to lose from teaching people the truth and allowing them to explore and have their experiences validated as part of the path - part of the dharma - the way buddhism does it. Easy and hard, fast or slow. We walk this path we are all manifestations of the One which appears as many.
Back in philosophy the question was raised: How does one reconcile the many and the one? But the question is based on a false premise - that the One is something somehow distinct from the many. Perhaps I suppose because you and me and the person next door all represent the many, that so the thinking goes that if you are you and I am me and they are them that that necessarily means that we are all separate. Unrelated. Unconnected in all but the loosest sense. When the truth is we are all connected in all ways except the loosest sense. Divide and conquer.
While sitting in a garden in an alcove on a warm August day, eyes gone soft, breathing slow, mind spacious and at rest a fly arose. And I wondered what it would be to see this world with eyes of a fly, with fish eye, with multiple lens eye, to see from the perspective of the least among us. And so I imagined and so I felt and so the understanding settled upon me that the One manifests as Many and it occured to me as I laughed that the One is the Many and the Many loses touch with the One in the multiplicity and the manipulations of the mind. Mind in lower cap letters. Mind as in mine and yours. Each a segment of - each a holograph of the One and of the Many.
I am so fortunate to be able to love and to live, to work and to play, in this delightful town of Durango. I am so fortunate to have "found" this place so thankful we listened to the call of this space. And moved here and are learning how to build here. Here in our home. Karen and I. A place we call "Casa Serene."
doc rob
Anyway..... I think enlightenment is really and truly so quite ordinary and mundane that we simply over look it. By thinking perhaps that it must be something grand, something supra-mundane, something magical and mystical we miss the invitation for our participation in the rhythms of life and the call to be part of the various levels of conditions arising simultaneously or nearly so as we live and move and have our being.
But if so, it is a "kind delusion." One that allows me to imagine and to actually feel and experience how good it feels to "drop pebbles of loving-kindness" into the world and observing how people's eyes, faces, and minds light up as the kindness moves upon them. It is a gift to be mindful of acts and words of loving-kindness. There is surprise and delight, and merriment, and now and then, a moment of awakening hits us like a Hallmark movie moment and we are transported and transfigured till POOF! Its gone! But not without leaving an imprint behind. Which begs the question: what sort of an imprint do I wish to leave behind?? Which further begs the question: can one mindfully and heartfully scatter, toss, and drop, enough pebbles of kindness into the mix of this multi-connecting rhythms of life and life's attendent responsibilities, disciplines, devotions, and deviations being all mushed about? To make a difference? Its a wonder ya know?
Its rather nice to take a stroll down Main St and think of others coming and going in kind ways; wishing other energies other entities good will and good heart and being open to opportunities. Looking to be a kindness to another. It feels good and it has repercussive effects. Seems that acts of kindness begat acts of kindness - reaping as we sow as we grow and as we share and connect with others from a gentle spacious space. From a place of compassion, ripples given from and ripples felt within the open heart.
One wonders where and how-come Christianity missed the boat. If perhaps the frightful hunger and need for power and control absorbed those who were in positions to make a difference way back when. Way back when Christianity was a path and a way of living rather than a mental game and a way of manipulating. A way of manipulating poltically, economically, regionally, and along class lines in order to maintain the status-quo of those who fear the most and would have the most to lose from teaching people the truth and allowing them to explore and have their experiences validated as part of the path - part of the dharma - the way buddhism does it. Easy and hard, fast or slow. We walk this path we are all manifestations of the One which appears as many.
Back in philosophy the question was raised: How does one reconcile the many and the one? But the question is based on a false premise - that the One is something somehow distinct from the many. Perhaps I suppose because you and me and the person next door all represent the many, that so the thinking goes that if you are you and I am me and they are them that that necessarily means that we are all separate. Unrelated. Unconnected in all but the loosest sense. When the truth is we are all connected in all ways except the loosest sense. Divide and conquer.
While sitting in a garden in an alcove on a warm August day, eyes gone soft, breathing slow, mind spacious and at rest a fly arose. And I wondered what it would be to see this world with eyes of a fly, with fish eye, with multiple lens eye, to see from the perspective of the least among us. And so I imagined and so I felt and so the understanding settled upon me that the One manifests as Many and it occured to me as I laughed that the One is the Many and the Many loses touch with the One in the multiplicity and the manipulations of the mind. Mind in lower cap letters. Mind as in mine and yours. Each a segment of - each a holograph of the One and of the Many.
I am so fortunate to be able to love and to live, to work and to play, in this delightful town of Durango. I am so fortunate to have "found" this place so thankful we listened to the call of this space. And moved here and are learning how to build here. Here in our home. Karen and I. A place we call "Casa Serene."
doc rob
Boom Boom Boom
he older I get the more I understand that there is a rhythm to life and a rhythm to every life. A definite beat. A pulse from out of which all the rhythms are grounded. A beat from which all other rhythms arise. Each season has its own time signiture (winter,to me seems a slow, bluesy, 6/8). The divine matrix is poly-harmonic and poly-rhythmic and still, be it Coltrane or Jagger or Ringo or Bach there is still, underlying all, the pulse. The beat. The boom boom boom!
"Turn, Turn, Turn," is a song about "equanimity," from the book of Ecclesiastes. Though no bible scholar, to me, the book of Ecclesiastes only makes it more clear that everything is impermanent and when we grasp and try to hold on that we are missing the boat.....that we are not in rhythm, that we are off beat. Its an old saying I know, but does anyone really march to their own drummer? Does anyone really exist out of rhythm, out of synch with the dance of life? For long? And live to tell about it??
The more I practice loving-kindness....the more I cultivate seeds of compassion and joy, the more I start to "get" the concept of "Equanimity." The more I struggle with letting go of the "vanity of vanities," the easier and more satisying it becomes to simply connect with and play the basic beats. To do what one can at any given time, to give what one can in the moment.
Doc Rob
"Turn, Turn, Turn," is a song about "equanimity," from the book of Ecclesiastes. Though no bible scholar, to me, the book of Ecclesiastes only makes it more clear that everything is impermanent and when we grasp and try to hold on that we are missing the boat.....that we are not in rhythm, that we are off beat. Its an old saying I know, but does anyone really march to their own drummer? Does anyone really exist out of rhythm, out of synch with the dance of life? For long? And live to tell about it??
The more I practice loving-kindness....the more I cultivate seeds of compassion and joy, the more I start to "get" the concept of "Equanimity." The more I struggle with letting go of the "vanity of vanities," the easier and more satisying it becomes to simply connect with and play the basic beats. To do what one can at any given time, to give what one can in the moment.
Doc Rob
In just a Moment
For some time I have been pondering the question of time both as a phenomena with spiritual and quantum characteristics, and as it relates to photography and to the creative process. History and life stories, myths and personal tales bear witness to the import of, to the "decisiveness" of, to the earth-shattering / mind-blowing "OMG" moments of life. Of our life. So, no question that moments are important and I think its important to experience such moments and perhaps more so to be humbled by and moved to be grateful for, those such moments. I know I am.
So, when does a moment start? Does a moment have a specified time frame? Of what duration? Or maybe its musically based - grounded in some deeply rooted heart pulse - a beat recalling Elvis, and Hank, B.B. Freddie Van Morrission and the boys. If so I wonder is it counted in the 6/8 of african rhythm or in the 3/4 of country rock? Surely not counted by the ticks of a clock. Safe to say I do not know. Equally honest to say that its important to pay attention to those qualities and energies which come together in a "moment" that can change one's life. If one has never had an experience of being intimately and deeply connected with / held by / composed of that which is variously known as "Father," or the "unconditional," I simply call it abiding love, then you know that which I speak of and you probably remember that or those moments are comprising the most important moments of your life. If not, if you have not had such an experience and you want one or several, than start using your imagination to take you there and best start soon.
Clearly this topic will require more moments. I knew it might the instant the idea popped to examine my experience of "life moments." What ever they might be. Without or with as little judgement as possible, learning how to stay more in the moment. Practicing ways to hover around and linger a bit longer. Learning to notice a complete moment in a breath, and learning to let go of that breath. Finding freedom in the mind and experiencing greater spaciousness and depth of the mind and most cool of all, almost all the time feeling held within a vast space of that "ever present everywhere....that warm love." (Van Morrison)
doc rob
So, when does a moment start? Does a moment have a specified time frame? Of what duration? Or maybe its musically based - grounded in some deeply rooted heart pulse - a beat recalling Elvis, and Hank, B.B. Freddie Van Morrission and the boys. If so I wonder is it counted in the 6/8 of african rhythm or in the 3/4 of country rock? Surely not counted by the ticks of a clock. Safe to say I do not know. Equally honest to say that its important to pay attention to those qualities and energies which come together in a "moment" that can change one's life. If one has never had an experience of being intimately and deeply connected with / held by / composed of that which is variously known as "Father," or the "unconditional," I simply call it abiding love, then you know that which I speak of and you probably remember that or those moments are comprising the most important moments of your life. If not, if you have not had such an experience and you want one or several, than start using your imagination to take you there and best start soon.
doc rob
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