We think we've learned, we tell ourselves that we've got it! Things seem to make sense and fit in our nicely arranged boxes, seem to be working, seem to be steady, seem to answer most of our doubts/questions... yep, this must be it, this must be how life works... big smile on your lips, confident look, yeah! we can see it clearly now, the sky is blue! ... but wait, no... what's that??? no, no, no... that doesn't fit our plans, that doesn't go with the scenario, no, it's not supposed to work like this, come on! really??? ... Yeah, Life is full of surprises... and we shouldn't be surprised by that.
That's why words like flow, let it be, let it go, just be here and now, quiet the mind etc, are supposed to help us. But we can't just be still, we have to do something! We need to breathe, eat... There are problems to be solved. So how can we balance being still and active at the same time?
Well, I guess it's about being round, complete, balanced, being one in all.
To be here you need to be actively here. There's only day and night because the Earth keeps rotating around the Sun. In sum, Presence = being quiet, but alive.
How you choose to be present that's your active choice. Active choice.
"Be an artist of consciousness. Your picture of reality is your most important creation. Make it powerfully profoundly beautiful."
So the power of Choice is usually a misunderstood one, because we question, what choice??? Most likely we say: "Oh, if I had a choice I would...", ok, would what?
What would you do?
Ah, you would, but you can't, you don't have the means for it, it's not the right time, you need to take care of some things first... sure, you're free to choose whatever it's important for you right now, but be reminded that you're choosing.
... What's important for you right now?
For most children is to play and interact, because not only they have fun, they actually learn a lot, they share experiences, discover new things, they learn to think for themselves in the messy environment of other selves, playground!
For adults... well, for adults it's the exact same thing: to play and interact.
We desire to experience life and share it. We want to discover new things and learn to think for ourselves in the messy environment of society.
So what's important for you is the same for everybody. It just gets different shapes, shades and rhythms, but the nature is the same.
We experience the world through interaction with others in the workplace, in sports, in hobbies, in social gatherings, and that is what being alive means: being one with all. One (you) with All (everything).
It's when we break that flow of being, that we get sick and unbalanced. It's when we quit, give up, stop, recoil, hide, that we break the natural energy flow.
You know what it's important for you. Of course it requires effort, everything, from humans to machines, requires effort to function, but you can choose your focus and style (grace).
"Grace is the beauty of form under the influence of freedom."
And you can also choose to IGNORE what doesn't serve your purpose.
Ignore it. Intentionally disregard what not brings you health, peace or love.
Respect being alive. Purge negativity. Starve guilty feelings.
Listen to music, play, stay curious, "use all of your life's string, as in a kite".
If you have a bit more time, read the next text from Meggie Royer.
It will take you very much to the point.
The morning after I killed myself
"The morning after I killed myself, I woke up.
I made myself breakfast in bed. I added salt and pepper to my eggs and
used my toast for a cheese and bacon sandwich. I squeezed a grapefruit
into a juice glass. I scraped the ashes from the frying pan and rinsed
the butter off the counter. I washed the dishes and folded the towels.
The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love. Not with the boy down
the street or the middle school principal. Not with the everyday jogger
or the grocer who always left the avocados out of the bag. I fell in
love with my mother and the way she sat on the floor of my room holding
each rock from my collection in her palms until they grew dark with
sweat. I fell in love with my father down at the river as he placed my
note into a bottle and sent it into the current. With my brother who
once believed in unicorns but who now sat in his desk at school trying
desperately to believe I still existed.
The morning after I killed myself, I walked the dog. I watched the way
her tail twitched when a bird flew by or how her pace quickened at the
sight of a cat. I saw the empty space in her eyes when she reached a
stick and turned around to greet me so we could play catch but saw
nothing but sky in my place. I stood by as strangers stroked her muzzle
and she wilted beneath their touch like she did once for mine.
The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the neighbors’ yard
where I left my footprints in concrete as a two year old and examined
how they were already fading. I picked a few daylilies and pulled a few
weeds and watched the elderly woman through her window as she read the
paper with the news of my death. I saw her husband spit tobacco into the
kitchen sink and bring her her daily medication.
The morning after I killed myself, I watched the sun come up. Each
orange tree opened like a hand and the kid down the street pointed out a
single red cloud to his mother.
The morning after I killed myself, I went back to that body in the
morgue and tried to talk some sense into her. I told her about the
avocados and the stepping stones, the river and her parents. I told her
about the sunsets and the dog and the beach.
The morning after I killed myself, I tried to unkill myself, but
couldn’t finish what I started."