Where does this journey end? That seems to be a question that wants some attention, yet I have no idea what an answer looks like, feels like or if I should even give it any concern. However I have felt more of a quietness about me since I finished writing “On the Roam”, but even yesterday when I found a beach, where no one was, and I was left to my-self that too was interrupted with the continual nagging of the Lombok locals; once they see you they swarm. I have resorted, in such cases, to leave the given place hoping I might find some peace elsewhere. That is the one thing about Indo that I can do without…the feeling that everyone wants something from you; so I find myself closing down instead of opening up.
Back to the question at hand; where does it end or how does it end? I think the answer might be found in the serenity of a temple in Kauai-that I visited last time I was there-if I sit there, breathing and listening. I am aware however that everything exists-past, present and future-in this moment regardless of the self imposed barrier seeking only to know it by name; for there is safety in knowing the infinite wisdom of my ignorance. It all starts with awareness, so to be cognizant of my ignorance is a beginning. I guess my task is to let it be with faith in its perfection; never minding my attempt to make it what I imagine it should be. What expectation could ever express the true nature of what is beyond knowledge; reminded by the Master’s thunderous silence.
The ocean is a mentor-always on the surface busy dancing with the wind and giving voice to the crashing waves while within, it’s perfectly consistent in quiet surrender. So I take a breath filling my abdomen as I am drowned in the abyss, once again suspended in the compassionate embrace of acceptance-absent of what has or can be-simply being. Gliding gently between what I perceive and what is obviously missed the realization of the question becomes effortless, for it is only completed by the answer given and since I have not chosen there is no rest for the inquiring mind. Thus I give it no mind, releasing my grasp on the sand slipping through my fingers and the ceaseless desire to design the formless. There is no fight in the sea as the currents ebb and flow, there is no battle between the fish and swaying protection of the enenime; so what purpose do I expect to find in my desire to lord over it. This realization awakens me revealing the chains binding me to my-self as the blood from my struggle against them stains the ocean attracting the sharks of control. I stop, regaining the energy panic robs, to float back to the world for another breath.
When will this journey end? It ends in the decision to give the question an answer; and I have not chosen…
