Archive for September, 2013

Learning Presence

September 12, 2013

We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us. Joseph Campbell

My fingertips surprise me when I allow them to translate directly from my soul without filter. When I returned to this blog last week, I responded to a comment from Laurie (Speaking from the Heart ) by saying: “The more I learn, the less I know. I have seen, heard, and felt SO much that all I can say is that I know even less than I knew three years ago because my learning has far exceeded my knowledge. Now I have to go write a blog about that.”

So, here I am . . . writing a blog about that—the more I learn, the less I know.

At the age of four or five, I was complete. I knew everything I needed to know. My memories of that time are curled up in an idyllic cloud of nested satisfaction. During that brief period in my life, I had no worries about the past or the future. I was totally caught up in the present and that was enough.

Life happened and the world caught me in its grip of reminiscence and anticipation. Consequences began to haunt me. The future held shadows that foretold of events to come.

Learning became a cognitive process that created more questions. Half a century later, I stand at the edge of knowledge cliff facing a vast emptiness of unknowing.

I have learned that I often get what I have asked for only to find out that I have asked for something that is not good for me.

I have learned that no one is really in charge of life here on earth except the laws of physics and nature.

I have learned that we create our existence.

I have learned that nothing has to happen and everything will.

What I don’t know is how to put what is best for me first.

What I don’t know is how to help others see that we can only be in charge of ourselves and if we just do that, we might cause less harm to others.

What I don’t know is how to create a daily existence that is based on everything I write about here.

What I don’t know is how to let nothing happen.

I am learning ever . . . so . . . slowly . . . that if I just watch my life and live from my true presence, something will happen.

And it might be better than what I had planned.

©2013 Barbara L. Kass

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The presence of returning

September 4, 2013

I’m back.

Back to my blogs. Back to my residence.

It appears from my last blog entry that I had managed some level of awakening and then disappeared. Or given up. The truth is I simply became busier than I could reasonably manage in a 24-hour day and this blog became one of the victims. While I kept up with Meaning Making, all of my other writing efforts were devoted to grad school papers and my final capstone thesis where I became undeniably aware that what I really really really really want right now is stillness and silence so that I can hear/feel/sense/discern the voice of the Divine/God/Spirit/Universal Consciousness.

I’ve returned to my place of living without my things because most of them burned up New Year’s Day 2012. But my habits have returned with me. I turn to see the time on the clock on the wall and see only an empty space. I need to find a new clock for that space because each time I face it, the memory of what used to be shakes me again, hurts me again, and I need to change that energy.

Returning requires replacement.

Returning requires facing what used to be with who I am now.

Returning is asking me the question: now what?

I’ve been living a life of finishing, stowed away in a different portal of time, sunk into a one-purpose outcome: graduation. It did not matter that I had already graduated from kindergarten, grade school, middle school, driver’s ed, dog obedience school, high school, college, and graduate school once before. Oh, no. I had to go back and hit graduate school one more time. It was a pure spiritual calling and what I discovered is the value of my time and attention—what is meaningful for me.

Returning finds me with everything I have absorbed and how it has changed me. I need to digest it all and make it mine. I am returned to where I began, and now I must somehow translate who I am now into my being in the world.

Someone is calling me to return to some greater presence of myself.

©2013 Barbara L. Kass