Take Two of Infinite Possible Takes…
Something has changed.
But not in the way the mind would measure.
There was no finish line..
No final knowing...
No arrival...
Just the quiet falling away of what never truly belonged appearing to happen again and again and again…
It began with living and eating The Wild Way.
Not as a plan...
Not as a system...
Not as something to achieve...but as something the body had already begun.
In a time of health crisis..
It simply remembered itself...
If I were to narrate it, I might say
"A return, not a journey. A remembering, not a fixing"
Yet fixing, a health reversal has definitely taken place.
And with it came the quiet dissolution of the character who knew best...and the emergence of something older, deeper, an ancient intelligence rising from the roots of this and all human form.
Food became simpler...
Cleaner....
Hunger quieted....
Cravings dispersed....
And in their place a never ending constance of life force...
Satisfied....
At ease....
Even strain became a memory
A ghost of a sugar fed mind.
The fire that once fuelled the “me” the urgency, the push, the chaos....faded.
And something loosened.
The “me” who wanted peace was stress chemistry.
The “me” who chased healing was blood sugar in disguise.
The “me” with a story was just the narration
of an overwhelmed nervous system.
The seeker…was nothing but a brain
swollen with sugar and never satisfied.
The wants, the pulls, the needs, nothing but parasitic drivers deep within the guts of the body...
Nothing to do with "me" yet fully forming it's traits and personality...
And as that chemistry softened, so did the story.
Now, there is simply presence.
Not the thought of presence.
Not the pursuit of presence.
Only ever presence.
Sometimes wild.
Sometimes still.
A body that eats when called to.
Walks in the sun.
Rests without guilt.
Responds without panic.
Knows nothing.
Holds nothing.
Tries nothing.
Not an awakening...though it might fit the word.
But without sugar fuelled thought, there’s no one left to need, to seek, to awaken.
Something is simply forgetting to hold on.
And that forgetting…is the only remembering there ever was.
The Wild Way is not a path.
It is the walking itself.
It is not a return to nature
But the seeing that there was never a leaving.
What appears as body, as self, is not separate from the nature it arises within.
And that nature which is not “you” holds a wisdom too ancient, too vast, too alive for the one called “I” to ever grasp.
The one who thinks…does not know best.
Does not know itself. Cannot hear the body.
Cannot know what the body wants.
Sickness arises in the mistranslation, in the belief that this body is “mine.”
But it is not.
It is not your body.
It is its own living world, within worlds, that you can never truly know.
And yet…
No one is behind...
No one is ahead....
The flame burns the same in the confused and the clear.
But when we eat simply and rest deeply
When nature calls its body home...watch what falls away.
Watch what dissolves when the body is no longer inflamed with memory...
Memories of a someone making something out of nothing, believing it knows what is good or bad, right or wrong.
When that one dies…there may be a taste
of what always was.
The infinite
The constant
The eternal
Not beneath...
But as what always is, under the blind craving,
beneath the toxic fire of false thought and separation.
Untouched
Wild
Whole
Not enlightened.
Just not divided
And in that...there’s nothing left.
No question was ever asked.
No answer was ever sought...
It was already.
As already.
Just masked by the recklessness of a system of a brain fuelled by toxic fire, projecting the ache of unsatisfied thought as it slowly fell into disease...
The Wild Way is not something to follow. It’s what remains when nothing else is needed to lead.
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