Beneath the awkwardness of a moment, there is discomfort. Below this discomfort there is a light fear. Behind this fear there is pain – as if the chest were bleeding out, endlessly into space.
Don’t look for rationality here. This is the life-blood of creation, the sheer, open vulnerability of broken attachment, the living agony of the feeling of not belonging. The one that can experience this ecstasy of heart pain is the one here before any of it ever began.
The way to navigate this agony of separation is not through searching for a new object, project or person on which to attach. It’s not even through composing a new idea of who we are. Because we will never know who we are.
The art of suffering and living is to fall back unconditionally behind all attachment – to that inner dimension out of which we attach and release, behind even any form of ourselves that could ever be rejected.
From this open source of life, attachments form and break. They kiss the “other” and they release with an easiness. Life flows through us, with a fresh kind of blissfulness and yet, we are always untouched by each pleasure-pain moment of mattering.
For horror and beauty, in every space of being, no matter how vast or how tiny it appears to be, is vastly unstable, moving through a transforming intelligence beyond human control.
Out of this existential core, we are proliferate. Here, we are already fulfilled in every corner of creation, without needing to do a thing.
