There have been times in my life where a moment held something greater- so to speak. What comes here as I have thought about this today, is correcting the writing of children. These were state tests. The supposed “good” writings were perfect in form and structure. The topic sentence was there and the supporting details, everything in place. But the writing was somehow “flat”. Then there was another paper where the child had not fleshed out the writing in the required form, fitting the criteria of the standard test. But the opening of the writing was so alive, as the words suddenly brought me into a world of depth and insight. A moment where the world was no longer flat and in the perfect accepted order. It was like being taken out of order and placed into a moment so vast and so endless, I can see where there was really nothing more for this child to say. They had said what they wanted to say. But the standard asked for something else. A flat structured “thing.”
This is not to deny the need for structure, but the child that had brought another dimension to the words used, obviously had no control or staying power with the language, and there was probably no teacher able to direct this child. Imagine the frustration for such a child.
There was another instance of this, these kinds of moments that remain. I was standing with a man who liked the stars. And there suddenly were the stars in a way I had never seen them, so clear. They no longer were flat, they had endless space between them, as though they were right next to me and I could feel the space between them. Time stops in such moments. And I tend to then remember these people by these moments. This was the star man. Someone had missed his name. His real name is Star Man.
This happened with my son. He was drawing a picture and suddenly nothing in the landscape was NOT moving. He put in his picture the sense that nothing ever stopped moving. I cannot see the trees and the woods as stagnant anymore, I have been shown how nothing ever stops moving. It is like a movement that is constant. Like not moving but moving, somehow both.
So, today I was “hit” with this. And complacency.
I talk with people, and as within my self, I notice so much complacency. This acceptance of what is habitual and familiar. Worries going through the mind are like this, and the dreaming the mind does as the personality of the mind has become so complacent in becoming the standard structure of our present system. This then becomes the weight as self carried around, occupying the attention. Unless I stop.
But if I think of these moments where the space and life and movement was suddenly experienced as the world around me, I realize these images of the mind that are a complacent self in a standardized form, the only thing to do is to stop this mind movement, because those moments of seeing the space between the stars, as though this space were here, or not there, or both, are not complacent and flat, they are the closest thing to eternity I have ever experienced.
What if that experience of something eternal is what is real, and the complacency is the existence of self as mind dreaming about what to wear to a dinner party to impress, to find a man, to get a job, to make that mortgage payment? If one lives in a part of the world where some angle of repose has settled on life, and existence just moves along and will somehow, though limited, manage to have few upsets. This is accepted, and change is not wanted because there is no real struggle but things are in place and seemingly steady.
The problem here is that this world is flat, the standard is flat, and what is beyond the veil of this standard of living is so much more alive! How can the mind be accepted if a moment of something eternal exists? Even if one is in a “standard” and seemingly stable existence, how can the not being of sensing the eternal be accepted?
It can’t. Here the mind is too small as the only way to be.
If the mind is only what exists then complacency, within a somewhat stable environment, sets in. Complacency will agree to everything but do nothing. Complacency is a form of zombiehood.
And the mind is actually very complacent. it chooses a few categories and walks around filling them in. A perpetual game of memory, with a limited deck of pictures to lay out on the playing field. Just walk away, and stop playing memory. We are all too old to play this game anyway, and we should have out grown it a long time ago. Let’s go outside and play in the spaces between the stars because they are right here and if you listen really carefully, sometimes you might catch this in the words around you in your world. But you have to stop playing memory to hear eternity.
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