Get Lost

Being present, in the moment, now. It's a very simple idea. But it can't be realized as long as one remains fixated in thought. It seems perfectly practical to the thinking mind. “The present is a thing (or a place or a state) that I am to remain affixed to.” But it isn't like that. By the time you've registered something occurring, it's already in the past – let alone after thinking about it. Being present is being on the leading edge of creation. It's more a state of anticipation than recognition.

You could take a snap shot of a sunset and have a perfectly nice memory. But it's merely a petrified footprint of a sunset that existed only momentarily, just for that spot on the planet and lived a lifetime of shapes and shades and shines, in a splash. When living within a world of thought, life is seen as a series of footprints, in the wake of the world that just happened.

It's no different than as seen reflected in listening to music. It can be a visceral experience when lost in it's unfolding – rather than lost in thought. In fact, “lost” is a prerequisite to full presence. Becoming one with the moment isn't just a catchy slogan. It's an accurate description. There can be no “one” when there's a “me”. Me, requires “other than me”.

So being present isn't so much about being just the right way. When you're there, it's more like “not-being”. Learning to hold space, maintain open presence and acute awareness, without claiming ownership of, or feeling compelled to articulate, anything. Without expectations, or need for experiences to mesh with preconceptions. Not seeing how it is in relation to one's self and story, but how it flows as an awe inspiring, ever emerging, spring of infinite creation.

There's an awareness that's always present, which seems to be us, but is clearly not the us we think of when considering who we are. Whether you interpret it as your higher self, God's presence within, or one of many facets of self doesn't matter. What does matter is that we learn to invite its untainted presence into our experiences and hear its council as much as we possibly can. The thinker won't care much for this idea. Promises of rewards can entice the thinker into cooperation, but it's like talking to a fish about mountain climbing. It just doesn't compute.

It's not that the thinker is necessarily wrong, it's just not as right as it thinks it is. It can't see beyond the confines of it's own view point, which will never reveal more than a fraction of life's unfolding from one small perspective. So we learn to accept that quiet presence as a life long companion and partner. Not because the book said to or because there's some reward in doing so; but rather, because it's the most accurate, honest and natural way to see and be.

Our job is not to manufacture and maintain our personal truth, but to be open to witnessing everything, as it appears, with full understanding that it's only appearances. We simply can't capture the truth, or even see it in its entirety. And that's OK.

We aren't here to serve our egos. They're here to serve us. So lose your little self and awaken to living your life, to seeing and feeling and hearing, to connecting on an intimate level with those around you, and to being as receptive as you can be, in all ways and to all things. Life is far too amazing/wondrous/awesome/remarkable/miraculous/astonishing/spectacular and marvelous to let it pass you by, while living out your days inside of your head. Go ahead, get lost, and be alive.

Isn't that the whole point?