Existence Exists
Here Is
Life Lives

Here I Am. Here You Are.

If its some random chaotic accident, why not make it a happy one?  If it is an expression of Divine Intelligence or cosmic grand plan then might as well shoulder and savor the responsibility as best a mortal can.

There is not a dang thing we can do or undo to change it.

So, be here reverently or resistantly but pretending not to be here hurts and being non-reverent is kind of ugly.

Here belongs. You belong.

Its a miraculous sleight of hand that we could even think that “something is wrong,” or, “I’m not good enough” when you consider that:

• The odds of you being that lucky egg-getting sperm to make it to the egg are 1 in 12,000,000,000.
• The odds of the Earth supporting complex life the way it does are under 0.01 per cent over four billion years.

The odds of you finding and reading this post are probably similar.

Thank you for reading these words.

18% of the world, about 1.2 billion people can’t read at all much less own a computer.

Feeling lucky yet?

A few inspiring sources:

• http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Planetary_habitability
• http://members.shaw.ca/tfrisen/chances_of_you_existing.htm
• http://www.gratefulness.org/t/abc.htm

Reweaving

Because my interbeing with all things is infinite, I vow to continually evolve my web.

Because everything between my conditioning and who I truly Am

..is clutter, I vow to choose freedom and cut the thread.

The rub:

Infinitude creates and destroys and loves them equally; it won’t settle for mere maintaining or tidying up.

I haven’t yet found how much clarity I can stand.

Haven’t seen how much perfection I can face with eyes raised

or how much creativity/ambition/shakti I can pour into this vessel without cracking

but I trust my beingness.

I trust my nervous system

I can let go of fantasy and fall in love with my empty hand.

Leaving things behind is just the start.

It takes a Bodhisattva’s heart and Manjushri’s sword to cut the old thread.

To face the darkened corners,

the emotional dust bunnies,

the half starts, half-hearts, and promises only spoken

until all that is left is love.

If you are living this unweaving,

Can you see what is without adornment or improvement?

And not just see it, but feel it, with baby soft eyes and an open heart?

Can you embrace your helplessness? The ncompletes?

And can you rest? Really deeply rest,

trusting the wisdom of the dazzling dark, the dew of a new dawn?

The way life ceaselessly, effortlessly unweaves and reweaves itself.

It’s breathing us,  reweaving us, now.

Can you feel it?

—Doug Ellis