A little something from my journaling this morning...
So many things I could focus on to write about...particular questions or themes or ideas. I suppose if I want to be a writer that might be a good idea—to have a point...someplace I’m going. With the book I am beginning to write, that’s certainly what I want. Somehow, here on these journal pages, I like to wander without an agenda...see where it takes me.
Certainly, on these pages, it isn’t about putting forth what I think I already know. It’s about seeing if maybe I can discover something new.
I want to live that way...as if my fingers are always on a keyboard...typing...or holding a pen letting the words pour forth in blue ink just as they will.
I know nothing. Something knows I don’t need to know anything. Whatever is known is beyond wrestling for answers. Whatever is known is not in my head—in the searching and the mental gymnastics.
Whatever is known is simply wide open and ever-present. It is Presence itself. It is in the wisdom contained in the way nature unfolds itself—the way it grows and blossoms and then lets itself fall away.
There aren’t words there.
I have words in the form of thoughts—
words used to tell a story and create meaning. This is the life of a human. It’s part of our make-up. It’s what we do and it’s part of our connection with that one creative power. At the same time, thoughts can have us mistake ourselves as separate from that one creative power.
The thoughts are not “my” thoughts—and they aren’t “knowledge”. They are flowing energy waves creating, creating, creating, arriving and leaving, ebbing and flowing like the ocean.
Intelligence somehow lives in the ocean...is the ocean--but the ocean appears to know nothing. Just as I know nothing.