The One True Choice

What is the one choice we all have?

What is the only choice within us, surfacing again and again through an infinite variety of forms?

What is the one choice, with universal outcome? The choice that excludes nothing? The choice that will set us free?

There is a choice that will give us the feeling of home, wherever we are. It will enliven healing and open the floodgates of freedom. It will turn suffering to adventure and confusion to curiosity. It will relax the body, open the heart and ennoble the mind with unrestricted peace.

Who will be in this choice? Where will they find it? What will they do with it?

The one choice is earlier than thought, prior to memory and behind imagination. It is deep in the existential core of life, a question asked, again and again, in rhythm with creation.

Do you recognize the sense of choice? The sense, before the making, doing or taking. The sensing of choice, because one choice is here to be sensed?

Can you rest in that bright and powerful, ocean of the one choice?  Not the feeling when choice is lost through choosing, but before that. Before the decision between this or that or the amputation of potential –  even before options are conceived. The feeling of choice. The sense of choice. Being in choice. Alive.

This is choice: the openness, freedom, power and possibility of life. How would it be to fall back and to be this one choice? This openly streaming question to which life itself is the answer?

Being choice, uninterrupted, releasing even that expectant surge of choosing. Here, we can feel the brightest pulsation of permission to be here and now, for real, without litigation. No agenda.

Stay a while, being this choice, a moment before choosing, undamaged by losing. This unending moment of earliest Eden, behind the infinite branching of the brain that confuses us into confining the soul. Before the choosing, before the losing: stay as choice.

When did we learn to sacrifice choice to the choosing, between this or that, black or white, up or down, left or right, day or night?  How did we contort to believe that choice means deleting me or you?

When did choice become a declaration of war?

Here is the one choice: straddling in the shackles of shame; discharging the nectar of evil; walking as innocence through the valleys of unquenchable guilt; breathing dense mists of betrayal and caressing the abandoned forms.

Yet this one choice has power. See how solitude evaporates in the rising of her bodily bliss, as curtains lift to newfound light  and skies expand through exquisite, undeniable unity.

What is this agenda that would deny us this unbounded presence of choice? What solitary dictator claims precedence to freeze the miracle of life?

Here is the one choice: straddling in the shackles of shame; discharging the nectar of evil; walking as innocence through the valleys of unquenchable guilt; breathing dense mists of betrayal and caressing the abandoned forms.

Yet this one choice has power. See how solitude evaporates in the rising of her bodily bliss, as curtains lift to newfound light  and skies expand through exquisite, undeniable unity.

What is this agenda that would deny us this unbounded presence of choice? What solitary dictator claims precedence to freeze the miracle of life?

Suffering she’s an old friend and just as we resist her, so do we suffer.

See the man who thinks his choosing takes this suffering away. The one choice lost, as he fabricates, medicates and dedicates himself to phantoms of fear. How he chooses to ignore, resist, distract and silence this pain, the worry of his own emanation. How he chooses to oppress, repress and depress the life surging through his veins and then wonders why all feeling dies.

Yes he resists life, but now he asks: why does life resist me?

Here, in this living matter of universal love, breathing the freedom of infinite space, empowered by the passion of all that is, the one choice needs no choosing.

Yet choosing needs the choice, in order to choose. And just as the choosing shines and fades into the wellspring of choice, so does choice survive, forever alive. Choosing needs the choice, but the choice doesn’t need the choosing. Being the choice, we always survive.

The choice that is no choice. The choice which sources even the chooser. The choice to receive. The one choice that is never spent, never lost, never wasted. The choice that can’t be expelled through choosing. The choice to allow it all, the choice to be.

The choice to allow the wash, flow and receding of sensation, The choice to receive impressions, without deletion. The one choice as the open way between the universe outside and the universe within.

We would rather cling to the known than face the unknown –the known being our house, our furniture, our family, our character, our work, our knowledge, our fame, our loneliness, our gods – that little thing that moves around incessantly within itself, within its own limited embittered existence – Krishnamurti