So many people passing by, standing, driving. There are old ladies with big scarfs, and toddlers holding their parents' hand. There are trees singing quietly, birds flying by playfully, and cats with mysterious smiles. There are buildings and streetlights, cars and buses, sidewalks and benches. And there is also 'myself'.

     This becoming aware of the spaces between everything, is only the becoming aware of no spaces...

     This little me is so fragile...just like everyone else...Like a flower... Like an autumn leaf, being blown with the wind. Like a raindrop on the way to the puddle on the ground.
Yet suddenly this fragility turns into Love.

     The 'no-spaces' awareness takes over, and there Everything is just beautiful...

Everything is Love...

S  i m p l y    
o


C
    O
         M
              P
        v   u   L  n  e  r  a  B  l  e
               E                  R
           T                    E         a       r     S               e
        E                         A                          m      l
     L                         T                                    i
Y                                 H   e  a  r  t                       
                                        

While thinking how to express the feelings that overflow me these past few days, came across this little poem which states it so clearly...

Dreaming, Chuang Tzu became a butterfly;
Waking, the butterfly became a man.
Who knows which is real?
Who know where endless changes end?
The waters of the deepest sea
Return to the smallest stream.
The melon-grower outside the city gate
Was once the King of the Hill.
Even rank and riches eventually disappear.
You know, and still you toil

                                        

* * *

There is a Great Silence...
It includes all
Yet it is completely empty...
It is within me and I am within it,
Only there is
No within
Or without
Or me...

It feels heavy,
Almost like a giant magnet,
Right in the center...
The body is perfectly still
Yet there is a lightness within
This magnetic heaviness
Of floating in space...

It starts radiating from the heart
Center,
Spinning completely
Motionlessly
Expanding without ever
Changing.

I am melting into this...
Being devoured...
Yet simultaneously
It is being
Radiated
From the core
Of my being...

No questions
No answers
No knowledge
No thoughts
No fluctuations,
Nothing...
Only silence...

Great Silence.

***

***
Water
First come the small waves
Light turquoise color
So pure
She can see right through them
As they are washing over her she
Forgets
words, herself, the ocean,
The waves
Grow
Now being carried by them
She laughs
The laughter is heard only
Within
The silence of the waves is
The sound of her
Heart
She breathes in
The fresh
Water
So pure
Light turquoise color
Then comes a light breeze
Air

***

The known and the unknown... what are they ?
...many times during my life I've been overwhelmed with this feeling of knowing nothing...

The candle burns brightly until it ceases. Where does it go, where did it come from, does it ever really cease ?

the knowing and the unknown...are just like the breath.
When does the breath start? When does it stop? Is the exhale its final part, or the beginning of a new breath? The pause between the breaths, isn't it too "the breathing" ?

I don't know what's harder, to accept the unknowable or the known...
What is the known anyways? A constant change, it has to be grasped anew constantly... to know is just like breathing- inhale...pause...exhale...pause...
It's just like walking- one foot up...one foot down...and so on.
Knowing is a constant balance, a game between the known and the unknown.

To know one has to constantly let go... every moment a new death, every moment a new life.

Only when I think about breathing or walking it becomes complicated, otherwise it just happens on its own...

*

Happy Holidays everyone !

This is a wonderful short film, touched my heart deeply. I know it will at least make you smile... :-)
Don't underestimate the importance of that little facial expression, it's much more than that !

To learn to be always in a state of meditation means never to let your vital energy wane. You would never allow it to do so if it were certain that you were to die tomorrow. It wanes because you forget about death. Grit your teeth, fix your gaze, and observe death at this moment. You have to feel it so strongly that is seems as if it’s attacking you. Fearless energy comes from this. At this moment death is right before your eyes. It’s not something you can afford to neglect.

- Suzuki Shosan (1579-1655)

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."
                                                                              ---Shakespeare

It is often strange for me to call people by their names.
It is much stranger to be called by a certain name by people.

I wonder why that is?
When someone calls my name it is as if they are talking about someone else.
Who is Alex? Where is that Alex?
That's not me...

There is constant change, constant flux and nothing ever stays the same. Only this name remains, but what does it describe? Who is it talking about?

I have noticed that calling a person by their name creates a distance between me and that person. Of course it does. Just when I look at a tree, the moment the thought "Tree" appears - there is no longer true seeing.True being is just like any other action- it is a continuous flow.
To try and capture it, to try and put a word or a label onto it, does not do it justice.
It is like trying to catch flowing water in ones hands, remaining always with wet hands and not much water.

So who is this Alex? Is it me? It's just a name.
Who am I? Nobody in particular. How can I be "somebody", ever? How can "I" be? 

I have realized, that the closer I get to a person, the more intimate our relationship, the more difficult it is for me to call them by their name. When I have to do so, I feel just as about myself, that this name- this word and the person have nothing in common. It feels artificial to call them that. It feels ridiculous even.
When I am with a person, I am within their presence, they are within my presence, but who is there? Just presence, everything interconnected, changing, flowing. There is not a moment of standing still, like two rivers merging. How can you tell the difference?

Whenever I call a person by a name, and don't feel this uncomfortable feeling arising, it means I am taking them for granted, or seeing them in a superficial manner. Perhaps I am used to the role they have in my life. It is easy, for example, for me to call my mother - mother. This means I am only connecting to one aspect of her being, the role she has as a mother. It is a sign for me that I am not seeing her as she is- as a constantly changing universe that is a human being. It is a wake up call for me. When I limit myself to only seeing a part of a person, I am missing out on the whole. I am missing out on the beauty and inspiration that they are, I am distancing myself from them.

Names come with a sense of security. When we know names, we are under the illusion of knowing what the name represents. It creates an illusion of stability, of something we can hold on to, something that will not slip through our fingers. But it is just that- an illusion.
This sense of stability behind a "thing" represented by a name, also creates the illusion of an "I" that is separate from the "other".
Without names and labels, such borders melt away, and it is less obvious where "I" begin and the "other" ends...

But there is no security in life, there is nothing stable and we cannot hold on to anything.
We keep trying to hold on to the water, and it keeps on slipping through our fingers. Yet we keep on trying...some have their fists closed tightly, as if they have something there. Some run around, waving their hands, here and there, with no avail.

The hardest thing has always been to let go.
Ironically, there is nothing to let go of, yet it is still the hardest thing to do.

Can you hear the cosmic giggle yet? :-)

My head spins, or is it the room around me that has decided to learn how to fly?
The body is exhausted from being bombarded with antibiotics and medicines. The veins on my hands are colored with traces of needles and the blue spots. It is weak from not being able to have a decent sleep, one that would last longer than 3 hours straight.
My nose, accustomed by now to the smell of drugs, rubber gloves, sterility liquids and the hospital's laundry, still gets a signal from my stomach that it would throw a tantrum if the nose will not sniff on a different scent.
My eyes surround the room for the hundredth time since I've arrived here, again. They notice dull colors of off-white and yellow, pastel-like greens and blues, their attention stops at the veil of my bed. Compared to the lifeless surroundings, the veil is stunning with its abstract patterns and the strong indigo color. The veil breathes life and mystery, it is the most fascinating object in the room. I find myself meditating upon it often.
As I watch the beautiful patterns, finding trees, castles, magical creatures and faces in between them, as if they were all talking to me, I drift back into childhood memories.
I used to do that often as a small child, with the carpets in our living room. I always saw faeries and various kinds of funny monsters looking upon me through them. I used to sit and watch silently, it was a game I liked a lot. I think I recall a time when I told a "grown up" about those creatures that live in our carpets, of course they could see nothing.
This veil was for me the sky and the ocean, it was for me a friend and a parent, with its various faces, it cheered me up. It also guarded me at times from the curious stares of other patients and their visitors, allowing me a quiet spot in this loud and busy room, if only in my own mind, where silence was my remedy.

"would you like anything to eat?"
It was time for breakfast, the food-lady came with her tray-filled cart. The nose awoke from the familiar dullness for a while, smelling the new aromas, but the stomach was not impressed at all.
"No thank you, I'm still feeling a bit nauseous"
"Come on now, you've got to eat something, where are you going to get your strength from?"
"Yes, you must eat!" Said the lady that was visiting her mother, my next-bed-neighbor in the room "at least have some gruel"
It is sweet how everyone seems to know what is best for you in the hospital. Although, indeed, staying a couple of days and nights in one, certainly seems to boost ones medical knowledge.
Looking at the tray again, I felt the various smells competing for my attention, fighting with each other like nineteenth century gentlemen on a duel for a lady's hand in marriage. I softly declined again, excusing myself away from the violent odors of hospital food.

There is a small window right next to the bathroom. The view is obstructed by hospital roofs and various metal constructions, but I can still see the sky, and if I look far enough, some trees too. It is precious to me. I sit by this window whenever I can, even though there's a chilly wind and I only have the hospital pajamas on.
The clouds are gray and dark blue, the rain has stopped just now, only to start pouring again. I breathe in the small bit of fresh air I can catch through that small window. I feel myself being filled with life. Fresh and gentle.
They say water has a healing quality, well so does fresh air. It cleans my body and mind from within, renewing its energies.
I watch the drops of rain, dancing silently, they wash me without even touching my body. The wind gently moves the clouds and the trees, in a beautiful, silent symphony of life. I watch and smile. I let the world take care of itself, everything as it is, and just observe.

Suddenly I remember, I have an apple in my drawer! Saved it from dinner the night before. A desire overcomes me- my senses all come alive again singing and praying for the fresh, green, apple. "It is alive, like us, and we want it!" Every part of my body sings in unison.
The same body that rejected the hospital food before, now was aching for that small and forgotten apple.
I take out the apple, feeling the smoothness of it's green skin, that was a stark contrast to the colorless background of the room. Standing next to the window again, breathing in the fresh air, I take a bite. I feel the energy of earth, water and sky, the life of the fruit streaming through my veins, filling me with joy and strength. Every bite I make is an ode to life, it is savored and cherished and I get stronger each time.

The rain continues to pour. I watch and listen quietly to its song "I am Life! I am Life!"
Smiling, I whisper "Me too".