Chuck Surface - These days

 

These days it doesn’t matter to me,

Who or what created this universe;

Such considerations are not pondered,

Left to friends who revel in theory.

These days I’ve left off wondering,

Whether any religion is true or false,

For all seem to me, articles of faith,

Left to friends who take shelter there.

These days the mind has given up,

Struggling to grasp the Ungraspable,

Having joined the Heart at the Tavern,

Drunk on the Wine of wordless cognition.

These days metaphysical ponderings,

Have lost their former glamour,

And I find that only one thing matters...

What it Feels like to be Alive.

Not the what, why, how, and wherefore,

Arising within the mind, after the fact,

But the Experience of Existence, Here,

In the Immediacy of Timeless Now,

Not what the body feels like, being alive,

Not thought, imagination, or emotion,

But deep within my deepest Interiority,

At the Heart of my Essential Aliveness…

What does it Feel like to be alive.

And in that Placeless Place, Before Time,

The answer is Fullness and Completion,

Untouched, Unmoving, impenetrable,

By the vicissitudes of manifest creation.

While pleasures and pains ebb and flow,

While storms of emotion roil and still,

Amidst manifestation’s Beauty and Horror,

Here, in the Heart of being, it Feels like…

Love

an affair of the heart 

Garden of the Beloved

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Aram Shaly - Always One.

 

To realize truth is to travel from yourself to yourself without ever going anywhere.
At first, it seems as if there is a seeker and something to be found. a path appears. a journey begins. questions arise.
Who am I? Where did I come from? What is reality?
Years may be spent searching through philosophy, religion, science, meditation, and experience.
Yet the final discovery is astonishing:
What was being sought was never absent.
The seeker was searching for its own source, just as a wave searches for the ocean while never having left it.
Truth is not an achievement. It is not something gained. It is not a destination reached at the end of a long road.
Rather, it is the recognition that there was never any distance between yourself and what you were seeking.
The journey ends where it began.
And in that moment it becomes clear:
No one arrived. Nothing was attained. Nothing was added.
Only the illusion of separation dissolved.
The traveler, the path, and the destination were always one.

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