Why Bother

I once believed that

the only constant is change.

Everything changes.


It is the nature of the unmanifest



I used to believe that

the only thing we can count on

is death.

Like all who have come before,

and all who will henceforth come,

the body will be evacuated.


And then one day I took a dip

in another reality.

One that, despite the constant transition

and movement of life as we know it,

doesn’t ever change.


I couldn’t have thought or read

my way into this reality.

I made contact with it

only because I stopped.

I hit pause long enough

for this other cosmically profound

reality to reveal itself.


It is still and vast and silent.

It is benevolent.

It pervades everything,

though isn’t always experienced.

One must develop ears  

to hear silent music.


Eventually, it taught me

that I am It.

That we arose from It.

There is no possibility

of being anything else.

Separation simply does not exist,

despite the fact that the experiential

understanding of it is not ubiquitous.


Its benevolence is not altered

by man’s choice to kill, to pollute,

to rape and pillage Mother Earth,

to cut down her trees

and crap in her oceans.

Free will is free will.

It is way beyond preference.

But since the past, present, and future

are all indeed happening now,

solutions to man-made problems

already exist.


It is beyond time and space,

beyond concepts

of good, bad, right, wrong,

self, no self,

God, no God.

It is not personal.

Personal is what we do with it.

This totality simply IS everything.


So why pause for five minutes,

an hour, or a year?

Why pause to observe the mind,

the thoughts, the feelings,

the physical sensations?

Because not doing so

would be leaving the greatest gift

of your lifetime

on the curb in the trash heap.


I once heard it said that a drop

of water falling on rock

once or twice or even three times

has no impact.

But it is fact that

if this drop of water

falls on that rock

consistently and persistently,

over time it will carve a hole

on the scale of the Grand Canyon.