All of time is contained in one moment,
and yet that moment is not a moment,
just as a word is not the thing.
Mind is a magical tool for making everything
complicated, and then we will typically imagine
there is something or other to complain about,
some complication in need of resolving.
We entertain complex notions that we are
something which we’re really not — no wonder
we are always prone to grumbling and mumbling.
If we were to pause for that one non-moment,
we might realize that there is no particular reason
for complaint, since there is no particular thing at all.
We habitually think there is something, perhaps because
somebody taller than us once explained that appearances
are things, objects of consciousness, separate, concrete,
enduring or non-enduring independent-type entities,
just out there waiting to be grasped or avoided.
If we experiment with that concept, however, we find
that for all of our efforts, we are merely reaching for
handfuls of air, or running from our own shadow.
Truly, we really don’t know what any thing is,
but such not knowing generally makes us nervous,
we worry, we become fearful that our own existence
might be threatened — the exact same existence
which is just a word, and not the thing itself.
That thing itself is never actually appearing, and so
we call it “the non-appearing”, because that seems
to cover its not-actually-being-anything-ness,
the very same state in which we now exist,
but without such an elaborate hyphenation.
When this current dream body drops down dead,
I want to have both arms outstretched, both hands
wide open, as if I am happily letting everything return
to the same state in which I now exist, inexplicable,
with no reason for complaint, no reason for any of it.