I was lost ā tired, overwhelmed, and angry. A wise woman once said to me that underneath anger is hurt or fear. I felt hurt. And frightened.
I s(k)ulk through the night.
In the early morning I leave resentment on the other side of the door. I find a way back to myself. I become my breath, become this body, become, by and by, the sensation of being alive.
This is not about inside vs. outside ā the āinnerā journey as opposed to the āouterā.
It is the present moment ā which I undergo in only snatches.
It is being alive, ābreath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat,ā as James Finley says.
It is joy relishing being unexpectedly alive.
It is knowing this now, not waiting for it, not seeking it.
It is realising that I have never been anything other than rapt.
People say they want depth. What is meant by ādepthā?
It is a word pointing at an experience that has nothing to do with what may be fathomed.
āDepthā is life pared back to its essence.
It is the no-feat-of-mine, ordinary (extraordinary!) awareness of life happening as me,
God happening as me,
always present,
always given before and beyond any act of mine.
āMeā is a fraction of God-as-life happening as everything.
Where does all the time go?