Miraculous

I am sitting on my bed, amazed. This amazement has been flashing for weeks, maybe months, and is becoming ever permanent. Its not like a new understanding, which quickly fades in intensity and becomes stale, or a new experience that soon loses its shine.

It an amazement at the miracle that I am here. I am amazed at the process which is me, which is everything, that has created life, that has created this world. I look at people on the subway, I look at birds and animals and insects, and I am astounded that creation produced this. Sure, things like computers and airplanes are technological marvels, yet we are still have no clue how to create life, yet alone turn that life into anything as seemingly annoying as a mosquitoe, which can feed, reproduce, fly, lay eggs, die.

The miracle of creation is astonishing. More astonishing is this is all me. I have gone through a deeper series of realizations, and I see the body that I arise in as deeply impersonal, as just a perseptive that sees and experiences this world, yet also as being made of the same fabric, of the same essence, as all that arises within and without me. Its a sense, a knowing, that no thing is seperate from being, from essence, and that essence is my identity.

Its an identity which existed before I popped out of my mothers womb, before I thought I was Bruce and nothing else, before I became obssessed with my seperate self and which I recognized after I finally undid this seperate self obsession.
Eveyrthing is alive; left for long enough, the airplanes will break down, Spirit will breathe life into their metallic dust, and life will climb out of the rocks. Where did it come from? The mystery is too stupendous to even try and understand. All I can do is enjoy the show, and do some good.

Love
Bruce