Three Things: What Now?

Many teachers, many lives; one met in person*, new contacts made: circles and waves of progress in rhythm. Two teachers, one known, one respected (+*=3), who had surprise brushes with the 'unknown', unanticipated.

Any day we are grateful simply to wake up, to arrive on time according to our chosen obligations, to 'be there' during a planned, significant, or spontaneous moment, and to arrive back to our respective 'homes' safe and sound, to recharge for another day. Yet even for 'the masters' (the ones who will not call themselves the same), some things cannot be anticipated in advance; 'life' delivers 'detours'. They ask the universe or themselves sooner than most 'ordinary folk': 'Why?'.

Not "Why me?", but rather 'Why?'. Years of experiences and 'practice' have conditioned them that purpose can be found in most every moment, so as soon as they can reflect, as their adopted 'habits' have served them, they look within to search for answers in peace, and at peace with what is offered. As humans, acceptance is not always immediate, even for those who have evolved 'far' for one lifetime.

As humans, plans have been made, and 'happenings' do not always serve the former; we are constantly reminded of our physical vulnerabilities at these times: how we respond unconsciously to chemical rushes in our systems that affect our thinking and responses. Our 'humanity' cannot always freely allow us to turn on and off attending to the 'short lists'.

Something else is at play; perhaps the collective 'we'. A proposed 'oneness' even the most aspiring of us have difficulty grasping when the rug underneath mysteriously disappears for what feels like a very long time, from a few moments that seem like hours, or hours that seem like days, months that seem like years (the warriors, who must perform like martial artists, out of necessity for the sake of others).

This is for friends, those loved, new and old, met and unmet, paths yet to cross again, and those that have. My heart is with you all; we are all children inside. Some of us can remember; all moments are precious.

When the fog is too thick, we're still there; the love is no less strong. Motionlessness is only as long as the next breath, or heartbeat, no matter how long it may feel like, until the flashing strobes and the foghorns lead us to where the next docking station is. We may bump the sides now and again before gliding into the slip: that's what the sides are for.

Our training, practice and repetitions put us on 'autopilot'; our reflexes take over for when full concentration cannot be summoned. We've been prepared for the unexpected; the inside comes out, to protect, to identify, and to define. The shapes long seen in our dreams become real; the 'missing' dimension fills the outline, and nothing looks the same from this moment on. Now is all we have. Listen, breathe, feel, look, connect, and 'see'.