Balanced on the precipice of the moment, these fine filaments of perception tuned to the eternal, the water flows from the bottle onto my tongue: cool to the touch. The stink of wet shoes is not so appeasing to the palette sensorium. Even though I know that I am That that is beyond this play of opposites, I move towards the favorable, perhaps hoping for a palace of ecstasy and delights.
Would the dirtiness completely disappear? Could it ever be totally perfect? I already know the answer, even as I ask the question. It's a rhetorical exercise of nonsense, but it clarifies the paradox, somehow. Even though there is an intuitive sense of the futility of chasing dreams, what are my options? To give up? To sit without moving--permanently? No. The best option is to have my cake and eat it too--realizing that the tapestry of Now contains all past-present-future threads of reality, and the gift of individualized perspective is the cornerstone of experience.
If I could encapsulate all my memories in a holographic globe, and spin that globe with split-second precision, the genius of linear spacetime would be more fully accessible, if not understood. Similarly, if I could explore future trajectories with such a globe, the nexus of the present, which joins past and future, would spread out its fulcrum as the foundation of experience.
But, leaving the elements of surprise and un-knowing in play, the experiencer moves forward with some degree of motivation. Enticed by the mystery, the fowardness of being alive is recognized as real, and the omniscience of Allness is just an unattainable shadow of semi-comfort.
Therefore, I continue to drink the cool water, and favor the promise of pristine conditions in temporal living.
Self-inquiry meets bhakti.
Any resonance?
