It happens

It happens so often.
It happens all the time.
Whether you remember it or not, does not affect the reality of it.
That which philosophers, poets, artists, sages seek and talk about.

Bliss? Nirvana? Enlightenment?
No enlightenment is when light is shone upon those moments, where they stop disappearing into the void that lives in the cracks between your memories, when they stop going to hide behind the veil of ignorance after you experience them;
Enlightenment is when these moments are recognized, and the unity of all the other moments is seen, as those moments sought for their mystical bliss, find their boundaries dissolve; as all and nothing becomes that and not that.

That cannot continue to exist, as that exists only in opposition to what is not that. Dualism cannot persist anymore; the veil is pierced.

But what do I know about Enlightenment? How can I speak of enlightenment, I who suffer from the push-and-pull of desire, laziness, greed, jealousy, vanity, confusion, joys and sorrows; I who am not enlightened.

But those moments, initially mentioned, I can talk about them. They slip back behind the veil, but I attempt to grasp remnants of them. Like when you wake up from a dream and try to hold on to those pieces that will disappear soon; like when you are in a dream, and try to hold on to pieces of your waking life conscious self in order to navigate lucidly.

Like when you are a child and you grow up and try to hold on to memories from your childhood because they hold treasures of wisdom, and hints about the path and key to that place where you seek refuge and to which you feel you were closer, as a child. .

Like when you are older, and a scent, a music, a place, a person brings back echoes of those moments from your childhood when you were in that place of peace, living with that subconscious knowledge of what to be, what you want, what the world is, of that. 

Just now was a moment of that. I’m just sitting at this coffeeshop working on an annoying load of work at 1.20am. In front of me is the high strung barista, and I’m sitting there, the opposite: very laid back, maybe just a little too much. He’s at work. I’m working too, but not on the clock. I’m at peace with myself. There is good music playing. I don’t need anything. I don’t know, all these details don’t mean a thing. I experienced the glorious moment of peace and bliss for a split second there and there is no reason for it. Its mere existence contains all necessary meaning to be derived from it.

 

 

 

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