thinking of the bigness and smallness of things, which is something that has always invaded my semi-sleepiness from the time i was small but big enough to think in words. maybe from before that, but without the words i don’t even know how to remember then.
with the smallness and bigness comes a power struggle. it shifts back and forth between the point of contact, in the space that nothing inhabits. it is here, i think, where the real stuff is. the between, the void. this is the place of knowledge and power and it’s the place that is hardest to tap into. this is where we skirt the issues. all of them.
for the past year, i’ve been struggling with incessant back pain. it never goes away. there are times i can walk and hardly notice it, but these times are shorter and happen farther from each other every day. and this pain has made my life smaller. i have to plan out things in time and distance so that i end up as close to starting as possible. i can’t travel far and i have to limit my stay. so, do i stand in the kitchen and make food today or do i sit at the computer and write? work on web pages? or maybe i should study for two hours? i can plan one thing a day.
my life is so small.
and i look around and think, everyone is out there, and here i am, inside this cocoon of pain, insulated from my old life, from their lives, from what is important and from all that is fun.
and i’m miserable.
and i hate being miserable.
so that point of power is actually getting larger. taking up more space. the bigness of life (out there) is farther away and my life is coiling smaller, concentrating into an ever decreasing amount of space. it is so heavy now. that point of contact, that place of power is looming, and i’m mentally poking at this big-ass bubble where reality exists outside of time, space and pain.
i’m figuring something out, but i don’t yet know exactly what it is.
i’m watching people i love. they are defining themselves according to their jobs, hopes and dreams of the future, reflections of each other, and holding onto their past lives as if nothing now matters, immobilized by shock and pain.
oh, it happens all the time. all the small disappointments, the false starts and sudden stops, then every once in awhile some shocking reality like the death of a loved one, the loss of a hope that a dream was based on… oh, it goes on and on… and everything gets bigger and harder to reach and you stand where nothing is never the same as it was.
stop here. this is it. nothing. the void. the source. the place of power.
the thing the yogis call “the present moment” or as Ram Dass said, “Be here now.”
the fleeting present thing that holds every real thing in its moment. the thing we keep missing for all the big and small things, then and later, that hold only our imaginings and none of our substance.