There is a moment, between sleep and wake, night and day, between the notes in a concerto, life and death, between the eyes of youth and old age…all unspoken, all unheard, yet certain; in the stillness of a stone or a whisper’s breath in the wind and ice melting and water freezing or fire burning wood to ash…where things are both eternal yet, never last. I am this lasting. I am this fleeting…moment.
My memory is like an old photo album in a baseboard attic. My mind is like a shattered mirror, scattered, crushed and tossed about, to and fro, by walkers by. What then am I but none of these things. My soul; fragmented and old, left for dead in the cold asylum of time…huh, and time again.
My unquenched thirst for an unrequited love called life still hangs in the rafters of a show never seen…yet; this is all to be called bliss? What play is this again? Sam, play it again…for me, so that I can remember again. I don’t want to forget this time, so as not to do it again, in time.
What was it that I was supposed to remember about myself? Huh, there it goes again …right through my fingers. What was it that I was supposed to hang onto…until now…it so easy to slip through the cracks in space and time. What did I lose this time…my mind? No, that was long ago. What if, on this pass, I forget to flip the hourglass or forget to wake the sleeper…will I get deeper into this?
Am I not the river, always moving, yet never going anywhere…they call it the same name but it is never the same? Am I not the stone, chipped and washed and cast away…always alone? Give me some spiritual things to say so that I don’t feel like I am drifting away. Some “thing” clever and new and a myriad of things to do to ensure my belief so that I can practice for years, then do enlightened feats. This is The Edge…this paper…way in the corner of this paper…the thin Edge on which I walk…this column that seemingly holds something up? Hmmmm….
The eccentric nature of madness must give us pause, for within its walls lies truth, but truth always lies…doesn’t it?…guiding me to my inevitable fragile demise, with failing ears, eyes and mind. Who was that guy, a river, a stone; he died alone? Yet, there is an irreverent joy that I have in all of this waxed important meaninglessness and it is this, that…I may or may not be remembered…the things that I say are like burning embers or fading echoes, as it goes…away. They say “You may be depressed” but, I find so much joy in this rest…assured! Nothing to hold onto and that’s all I do hold …and release. For it is not mine. Nor is my body, for it returns, so too will this planet…that sun.
Why have they tried to paint me so, with color and bones; propped up as if I’d stand forever…playing their recordings, praying for their doings, preying on the new ones coming in with questions. As bits and pieces of me fade away, slip away; I breathe and the wind blows me away…what was I saying? The temporal seasons change and we rearrange our schedules accordingly, monotonously, and in a way never changing with feigned permanence as a practical illusion in this fleeting delusion called life.
There is no fear for loss of land or things or holding still in the kingdoms natural …no cars ‘cept for ours, no boats or jets, or dining room sets, no cells or phones, or maps to find home…as I let go, I come to know that I have never been any of this. I am not the one that identifies it, or watches it; not consciousness, not awareness, not the universe or even my perception of nothingness. I am in the moment that isn’t, the one that slips away unnoticed. I commended you for creating all that you identify with but, I am when no one is paying attention.
The joy of touching the abstract fabric that is at the base of this all is like Magic, because out of nowhere everything appears and you can feel it there before, yet there is nothing there at all. I have spent years sharing Nothing…and I have Nothing to show for it. But I will leave you with this…in those moments when it’s all off, cultivate it…the absence.
Please, do not think me solemn, or in confusion or lack. I just simply know that everything fades to black. No fear, for I am already there.