what has already chosen us
a word of caution on the
illusory
availability of things.
of people, even.
life parades shiny options.
instantaneous catalogues of anything i could imagine.
choices beyond the scope
perhaps
of what a balanced mind can handle.
i find a lot of the time it is about
what
NOT
to invest time in.
sometimes we reach out
to tantric practices
to whatever
hoping for something external
to pull us into
a state of relationship
with ourselves the world the oneness
but i see sometimes a febrilous searching
that picks up and puts down bottles
and forgets it seeks wine.
wine swimming, every moment, in our veins.
so easy to forget,
and forget i do, daily,
there’s no magic pill, neo.
any practice
is as much as i invest in it.
i could take ayahuasca.
i could take a single breath -
as every tradition constantly urges me to do.
just because something is within my reach
does not mean it is the time
does not mean it is mine to take
especially not
things wrenched
from a faraway culture
with a faraway context,
a code of courtship if you will
that guarded and opened the gates into
an experience,
born from the knowing of intimate time.
traveling trails are littered
with the dead husks of such forgotten precautions.
best to sharpen our gaze
and see if we are served a trembling-naked shadow,
unhappy as a plant out of soil,
dumped on a silver platter
that could delude me
into believing
i could reach out and touch it.
the promise of immediacy
“this could be your life right now”
is a dangerous illusion.
to me the real question is :
have i courted or been courted?
has my longing carved out enough space
to welcome, to cherish and cradle,
the miraculous arrival of
the new.
has it been circling me
like the roe deer,
rustling out of sight in low bushes,
slowly spiraling in
until at least that beloved form appears,
delivers itself trembling into
the earthquake moment of meeting?
just because
cultural norms urge us to bite-size everything,
into sloganised sellable size,
illusionary bullet points that claim to capture
the majestic weave
of interconnectedness -
does not make it a useful mirror
or a good idea.
“a thousand half-loves must be forsaken to take one whole heart home”
may we choose only
what has already chosen us.
Photo by @jeffrey.packard
#illusionofchoice