M
y godmother/mother-in-law and I went to see Eckhart Tolle tonight, yes the same one of Oprah fame. We got the tickets last month before I knew he would be catapulted to stardom, which is sort of amusing. Actually everything is amusing after experiencing Eckhart Tolle. He's the fulfillment of the expression "it's so true it's funny" except it's also tragic that it's so difficult to really be here for the present moment, when that's all that ever was and will be. Everything one hopes and dreams for, to recognize us and exalt us with happiness and joy - we miss the whole thing.
Of course it's ridiculous to try to talk about it, and mad props to Eckhart for actually being able to. His complete lack of any apparent personality probably makes this so. In any case it's useless to speculate. I'm busy now breathing in and out. There are peanut M&M's on my desk. In an attempt to inject some beauty in this office where I miserably try to perform my duties, I purchased flowers yesterday at the farmer's market, and they've drunk half their water and some have opened from buds without me even seeing. But that's okay, because I'm watching now. And I'll watch and watch some more, for as long as I can until my thinking motor kicks in. There will be several more attempts for me to get this, I'm sure. But the less I think about it, the better.
M
y husband and my dog both share a wonderful quality: they are overlookers. Well, actually my dog doesn't really notice faults in the first place, but it's still an incredible feeling to walk around all flawed and damaged and imperfect, and receive pure love nonetheless.
It's something though, to notice fault and overlook it. Murshid talks about this in his writings, but it's one of those states I'm aware of and yet struggle to make real. Even though I know pointing out a flaw won't help the situation, I can't let go sometimes of the need to be right. My poor little self is somewhere in there, crying out to be acknowledged and elevated in the state of public correctness.
From the Gayan:
By accusing anyone of his fault,
you only make him firm in it.
The reason I want to get better at this is because I've experienced the love and good feeling that grows when I know I've been wrong, and yet my husband (or others I know who practice this) did not expose me and shame me. I want to return the favor. And also, in the fake it till you make it approach, I feel the less I give weight to criticisms by voicing them, the less they will bother me in the first place. This applies to self-criticism as well.
I've asked my husband how he can be so good at this, and he replied (in my own words, as I'm sure he would express this differently) that small little personal matters, the minor creaks and groans of everyday living, just aren't that big a deal to him within the larger context of one's long life. It's quite true - traffic and lines and annoyances don't really get under his skin. He's got his eye on the prize, the big prize. And that's the one I want to eye as well.
T
he invocation is the beginning. It goes like this:
Toward the One,
the perfection of Love, Harmony, and Beauty.
The Only Being
United with all the Illuminated Souls
Who form the embodiement of the Master,
the Spirit of Guidance.
Whenever I say it I close my eyes as if making a wish. I bring the invocation down through the act of invoking. It is a chivalric tool, a magic spell. Then, when I open my eyes, I see it happen.
It doesn't always happen that moment. It doesn't always happen that day or year. But later, in a mysterious fashion, I see how the sun caused a lemon tree in town to bear fruit, so much that the branches sag with the weight. The branches drape across the fence like a friendly neighbor's elbow. And there it is.
