Off The Hook
I wonder how many times people stray from their values when under the bio-chemical guise of some obsessive believed thought? Be it terror, lust or other unbridled appetite it seems the shenpa of our circumstance knows exactly how to cast the lure to reel in our darkness.
In each moment we sift our thoughts and external world until we find the ‘jewels’ that hook our attention. I easily ignore the drone of the washing machine but the neighbor’s leaf blower seems to upregulate my nervous system. Thoughts of what to prepare for dinner tonight float in and out of my mental screenplay without much ado … But the stray and random inkling that I am stuck inside a life limiting illness strikes with a red hot rod into my hypocampus chaos. The songbirds fade into the background of oblivia and the warmth of the sun and cool breeze from the open window seem to go unnoticed now as the gas powered blower sucks the life from my equanimity.
From a thousand thoughts or outside noise we easily ignore 99% of what Presense offers in this moment. Instead of Seeing all there is available we may only notice the road dust in our deeply rutted path. If I believed my meaning making mind, I could easily get caught up in the anger or despair — the colorful lure of the fisherman’s hook.
Or in a moment of Grace I can simply let the current in this river take me to the next place down stream.
Unless I bite the hook of my conditioned patterns, I am free to float in the ocean of change. Grateful of the gifts and boyant on the sea of experience.
For the moment .. I’m off the hook, once again.
I wonder how many times people stray from their values when under the bio-chemical guise of some obsessive believed thought? Be it terror, lust or other unbridled appetite it seems the shenpa < http://www.shambhala.org/teachers/pema/shenpa3a.php > of our circumstance knows exactly how to cast the lure to reel in our darkness. In each moment we sift our thoughts and external world until we find the 'jewels' that hook our attention. I easily ignore the drone of the washing machine but the neighbor's leaf blower seems to upregulate my nervous system Thoughts of what to prepare for dinner tonight float in and out of my mental screenplay without much ado ... But the stray and random inkling that I am stuck inside a life limiting illness strikes with a red hot rod into my hypocampus chaos. The songbirds fade into the background of oblivia and the warmth of the sun and cool breeze from the open window seem to go unnoticed now as the gas powered blower sucks the life from my Equanimity. From a thousand thoughts or outside noise we easily ignore 99% of what Presense offers in this moment. Instead of Seeing all there is available we may only notice the road dust in our deeply rutted path. If I believed my meaning making mind, I could easily get caught up in the anger or despair -- the colorful lure of the fisherman's hook. Or in a moment of Grace I can simply let the current in this river take me to the next place down stream. Unless I bite the hook of my conditioned patterns, I am free to float in the ocean of change. Grateful of the gifts and boyant on the sea of experience. I wonder how many times people stray from their values when under the bio-chemical guise of some obsessive believed thought? Be it terror, lust or other unbridled appetite it seems the shenpa < http://www.shambhala.org/teachers/pema/shenpa3a.php > of our circumstance knows exactly how to cast the lure to reel in our darkness. In each moment we sift our thoughts and external world until we find the 'jewels' that hook our attention. I easily ignore the drone of the washing machine but the neighbor's leaf blower seems to upregulate my nervous system Thoughts of what to prepare for dinner tonight float in and out of my mental screenplay without much ado ... But the stray and random inkling that I am stuck inside a life limiting illness strikes with a red hot rod into my hypocampus chaos. The songbirds fade into the background of oblivia and the warmth of the sun and cool breeze from the open window seem to go unnoticed now as the gas powered blower sucks the life from my Equanimity. From a thousand thoughts or outside noise we easily ignore 99% of what Presense offers in this moment. Instead of Seeing all there is available we may only notice the road dust in our deeply rutted path. If I believed my meaning making mind, I could easily get caught up in the anger or despair -- the colorful lure of the fisherman's hook. Or in a moment of Grace I can simply let the current in this river take me to the next place down stream. Unless I bite the hook of my conditioned patterns, I am free to float in the ocean of change. Grateful of the gifts and boyant on the sea of experience. Sweet songbirds outside my window I bow down and touch the ground at your Grace. I'm off the hook, once again. Sweet songbirds outside my window I bow down and touch the ground at your Grace. I'm off the hook, once again.
