Consciousness doesn’t leave you when you die. Consciousness cannot die. The physical form may cease to be as it is, yet even that is consciousness in another form, and it may change its form so dying is simply a rearrangement of consciousness, form-in-motion. In-form-motion. It is forming and unforming in every moment. Living in the physical is a choice in every moment: An “informed” choice. That we don’t see or know it this way is simply down to our beliefs. The dead wood is made of the same stuff as that which lives on it: consciousness. Consciousness is energy that is aware of itself. So how could the wood be dead? Only if we are unable to see what it is will it look either dead or alive. It is been eaten now by a bug, digested in the stomach… at what point does it become the bug?
No, not alone but with thoughts and feeling of loss, sadness and grief of that which has been lost, or not accomplished. Taking a breath, letting it go. Allowing the next breath to come to me; to welcome it, to receive it fully, without effort.
In a dream of fluid reality, my thoughts swim out to the sea, emptying the mind with each departing wave. Incoming, the waves gently arrive on the shore. As with the breath, there is always something coming and going…
Then, a new, old wave, intones in this rarely empty mind: ‘Oh broken spirits of yesteryear, come unto me and I shall make you whole again.’
Looking down, I noticed a small silver fish; it was swimming towards the sand rocks, determined and vigorous in its course.
“How shall I see thee?” I asked.
“You shall see me where and when thee needs to for it is thee that is the Source of all things – thou doesn’t knoweth this yet as Truth… until then you must look to find the infinite within the finite as that is where the mind blips out of existence and no-thing can hide the Truth of Love.”
A dog barked in the distance, a reminder to be doggedly determined. Not to give up but to continue as a barking dog does, not exactly knowing what is happening but following some inner prompt of a disturbance that needs attention. Attention, attention, the dog barks – pay attention!
A bit of rain is falling this morning, and being a bit of a fair weather freak, I wonder how wet I will get if I go for my walk. I go anyway and find it soft and gently warm outside. Contrast to yesterday when it was so bright.. today I find myself more introverted and feel that instead of looking for something, I will let things comes to me instead.
I set off up the wee road and before going far realise that I have a script running in my head.. it’s like I’m rehearsing for this blog…. like a fly on the wall documentary… jeez – it’s just a blog for God’s sake! Why do I get into this energy of contriving so easily? I resolve to set it aside and continue.
It comes back very quickly and I catch myself plotting what I will say in the blog. I have to laugh at myself really – fighting with this will only produce more of it. I let go again and decide to take another path in the woods. A few yards further and I come across this little scene:
I consider the merits of taking photos of this to share. I take them anyway – after all, the idea is to share what I find interesting on my walk. I could do with being less interested in the value of something, I thought.
I moved closer to the little woodland hide-away, fascinated by the consciousness that would think to drag a metal barrier fence, a traffic cone and other bits and pieces into the woods to construct a habitat (of sorts):
I checked out the empty beer cans… a picture started forming in my head, the chairs are side-by-side facing a pallet, behind which were more than a few empty beer cans. Only the TV was missing.
I contemplated on the desire, the effort and the people who constructed this and spent time here. A fair amount of effort was needed. But why want to be in the woods and then leave your trash around? Pondering on these simple questions could reveal much about the workings of human consciousness and the state of the world. I’m not judging, I’m wondering, pondering and contemplating as I find it fascinating to unravel the workings of the mind.
I left the little domestic scene and continued. The path ran out and I had to make a new one, feeling slightly guilty about trampling the bluebells as I went. I blessed them. These woods are extraordinary to me – for some reason I am so enamoured by so may different things here… it’s impossible agin to stick with only taking 4 photos so I revise my commitment and think perhaps I will just do the blog once a week instead and include more photos.
I took another new path off the main path… it went sharply uphill. It came to a point where it split. like a Nexus,, with many paths going in many directions… I followed one which finished in this little sweet space. I was sure I could hear the fairies singing…
I came out off the woods at a different point on the road – a place where one of the house-owners has garden-ized a bit of the land at the side of the road. This tree made me stop and my resolve melted. I took its picture. The little plants growing on it are Penny Wort, or Navel Wort (they look like tummy buttons) and they are edible, in a salad, with a slight mushroomy flavour and like a succulent.. very juicy.
In the shower I was thinking about values and our habit of placing a value on everything. I wondered about all the stuff we own, all the things, the experiences, the teachings, the give-aways. I wondered if we value anything we don’t need.
My mind wandered to an instance where I gave-away some energetic tools as an experiment to see if other people found them useful. I was pretty sure they weren’t being used still. Something arose in me that was uncomfortable but I couldn’t place it… just couldn’t see what it was but it caused my adrenals to kick in (this is what happens to me now-a-days… due to menopause I suspect and a refining, a re-defining of my energies, I get a reaction in my body that is in direct relation to something that I have thought or seen. My inner interpretation, or filter system recognises it and it is interpreted as a threat. I’m taking measures to address it.) It was about the value or interest in things… like this blog – truly it could only be interesting and of value as long as I was not trying to make it so. The moment we try to make something in a particular way, the purity is lost and the thing is now less than it could have been.
What if I were to simply let go of any idea of value or worth … to stop looking at things or people, or experiences and assigning a perceived value to it? I suspect peace is the answer.
And, isn’t it interesting how we have constructed a world wher value is everything: “How much is he worth?” is a common question.. “He’s worth a fortune”… Is he now???
“How do you earn your living?” (You mean we have to pay to be here? Why?)
And isn’t it interesting that we call the value of money charged as ‘interest’ when we loan or borrow it?