One Bag Of Bones At A Time.

Easy to say. 

“You’re perfect.” 

“I see you as perfect.” 

All you need to do is let go of all the thoughts, beliefs, emotions, mental constructs, advertisements, comparisons on social media, and the tap tap tap of that nagging voice that says, “Don’t fall behind. You can still catch up. You can still win!” 

Just follow your breath. 

Well, notice it first. 

Can you? 

That thing you do every moment of every day. That very first thing you did when you slipped wet and cold into existence. That thing that will be the very last thing you do before it all ends or you move on to another plane of existence. That thing my father’s body tried to do even after he’d died. 

“Be here now.” Thanks, Ram Das. But how do we do that without trying? How do we try without judgment? 

How do we believe it’s okay to see ourselves as whole and happy? Unbroken. 

If I’m not seeking “healing” what is there left to do? 

Without trauma, addiction, and neurotic narcissism, what do I do with my day? 

Who will understand what I’m talking about? 

Unbroken. Whole. Complete. 

The red pill or the blue pill? Which one is the true fantasy? 

The earth, the moon, the stars. The sun that will be eclipsed by the moon today over North America. The galaxies, and clusters, and all the missing matter our current comprehension of math can’t explain. 

Without a creation myth, how do I cope with consciousness? To know I am, but little else? 

It’s not reason or math or science or myth that will bring peace. 

It’s faith. It’s jumping into the unknown, the unreasonable idea that I’m good and complete no matter what the other bags of muscle and bone and emotions helplessly tell me and sell me. Forgive their ignorance and my complicity. 

It’s an inside job. 

One bag of bones at a time. 

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