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Saturday, December 22, 2012

If a tree falls in the forest...

It's safe to say that there are a lot of people in the world, but only relatively few celebrities, stars, experts, people of rank, royalty, status, or outstanding ability in their chosen field.

Many of us harbor a wish to be special, important (even those of us who already are so to a wider audience than our immediate families). However, underneath this is something even more fundamental than the wish to be important, and that is the need to matter.

We all want to matter, to believe that if we disappeared, we'd be missed. I believe that we each need at least one true witness to our existence; to our human condition. A true witness is one who sees, accepts and honestly reflects what we present to them.. Put like this, so few of our interactions with others actually qualify. On the other hand, sometimes we get the gift of a true witness when we least expect it. And sometimes, it's possible to give this gift to ourselves.

When we suffer from a lack of recognition, when we feel small, the tendency is to find something to bolster ourselves with - to puff ourselves up, but invariably these things just exacerbate the feeling of inadequacy. However, if we can allow this feeling without wallowing or adding to it, a part of ourselves naturally rises up as a witness to the experience. If we can be OK with being small, if the idea of being small is not met with aversion but rather, gratitude - that experience can be expansive.


Photo: Jason de Graaf

Saturday, December 1, 2012

The Possible

                         

I often marvel at the present moment, representing (as it does) both the culmination and the continuation of all known history: a cord tease-able into millions of threads of perspective - as many as there are people to experience them... and maybe then some. 

As terrible as it can seem sometimes, the present moment is ripe with rightness. Of all possible universes - this one, this planet, this year, this day, this moment and finally me... this iteration of me plucked out of the sea of my past possibilities. 

That starts to sound and feel like 'destiny' - but you can only call it destiny after its done. In the meantime, there's the present moment, and there's possibility.


                             

Saman tree, Trinidad