Tag Archives: embodying realization

surfing the curl

Big Wave SurfingMy friend William emailed me the link to a seven minute video. His email had no note. He only sends what he feels has value, so, with curiosity, I clicked.

There I was, peering inside the curl of giant surf that hit our West Coast last week. The wave was massive—a literal thirty foot wall of water. Then, out of the violent, still center, surfed a man, riding the immensity of the curl. Wholly in the present, a slip-up away from serious injury or death, he balanced, flexing with the water’s movement, as the wave’s curl traveled.

In slow motion, his balance shifts, and the board slips out from under him. He’s caught in the Maytagging motion.

The video rides another monstrous wave, and another surfer emerges from its unimaginable depths. So much speed, yet somehow motionless, he is caught in the womb of the giant. Until, yet again, he loses that split second balance and goes down.

We all surf the wall of water called life—some of us with fine balance, some with clumsy attempts. Life seems oversized, outscaled; we appear minuscule in its grip. Apparently all there is to do is grab our boards again, wait for the precise time, launch into the vortex, and surrender.

All day, as events unfolded, some easy, some more challenging, I murmured “Surf, girl, surf!”—and found my balance inside the wave.

Wave and woman, life and woman, not two.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2014
photo credit
PS Do not miss the video! Carve out seven minutes as a gift to yourself.

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summer evening notes to self

The final light of the day has lit up two trees in the far distance–one a palm, the other a flowering I-don’t-know-what. My heart unites with beauty.

Just as quickly, the splendid light fades.

The eternal everchanging.

To hang onto even one breath, one moment, one slantwise burst of evening light, is to suffer.

Best not to resist–love while it’s here. With the same love, release it freely. The same two trees, now illuminated with a soft gray post-sunset light.

Enthralling.

The mind wants to say “differently enthralling” or “just as enthralling.” What the mind does: slicing, comparing, judging, dicing, evaluating, choosing, rejecting–is required for negotiating some aspects of life. Notice it is always late–it takes ownership and comments after the moment.

When the mind is not required, set it down and rest here.

Rest knowingly.

Behind the palm, against the quiet gray, emerges the lightest dusting of pink. Here, and then gone.

Dusk settles.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2014

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why oh why oh why?

windblown-leafWe can get hooked on needing to know why. It’s a part of the mind’s final stand, and thought just doesn’t want to let it go.

“But why,” we ask, “does awareness allow itself to be veiled?”

The mind wants to know, and can get lost in creating scenarios, such as “awareness wanted an other to experience love.”

It’s a nice story. If this satisfies something for you, that’s fine, too. It soothed something in me for decades.

“Why” questions have no answers, and engaging with these questions re-activates our already overactive minds. Allow the very thought of “why” to be the reminder to relax. Be happy feeling the “why”–no need to reject it. Allow the wind to sail it away.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2014
photo credit

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empty-minded and open-hearted

doorwayEmpty-minded and open-hearted–what a lovely way to live.

After harvesting, fields are planted with crops intended for nourishing the ground. The vegetation is turned under and replenishes the soil. The field lies fallow and rests until replanting.

When the mental task at hand is done, we can allow the mind to lie fallow while we rest in the metaphorical heart–in our native state of being.

Leave the mind alone until it is needed for a fresh batch of practical matters. Its allure is very, very strong. I remind myself: leave it alone.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2014
photo credit

 

 

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abidance

NoMindI used to live in the mind–there I worried, imagined, invented, played, and explored.

I went to the mind because that is what I was taught as a child: my parents revered the mind’s capacity and honored little else, including the heart, where I natively lived. Dutifully–in order to earn parental acceptance–I closed off my feeling capacity and took up residence in thought. As a survival tactic, it worked, although I didn’t grasp the price. Mind is so very, very small, and  always lags behind the present–the placeless place of reality.

I entered my sixth decade before seeing that I spent 99% of my time in the mind world. It took time to understand the addictive allure and, in loosening its shackles, to uncover delicious, ever-present abidance in that which is. Here and now. No mind required.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2014
image credit

 

 

 

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deer consciousness

Velvet_Buck_1The buck with four-point velvet antlers paused to peer in the window. His limpid eyes met mine; I met myself in his gaze.

Pure awaring.

For long moments, union.

Then, cautious and watchful, ever aware of his surroundings, he moved on.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2014
photo credit

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apparent objects

Treasure MapWhat do we know of the objects of the world? This computer, the table where I sit, the chocolate covered espresso beans, the waving birch trees–look around your environment. What do we truly experience of what we see, touch, smell?

The knowing of it. That’s the whole shebang. When I touch this keyboard, I only have my perceptions of it–the apparent sight, touch, and sound. And what are sight, touch and sound?

The incomparable gift of knowing them. An immeasurable treasure.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2014
image credit

 

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it all shines with awareness

birch losing its skinThe discarded carton by the side of the road; my irritable son; the pine cone-laden trees gusting in the wind; the car gunning ahead as two lanes squeeze to one; birches losing their skin–all of it radiates bright, clear awareness.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2014
photo credit: Barnstorming blog

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hot tub epiphany, on writing

four quadrants of the brainSoaking in the hot tub tonight, I was wondering about writing non-fiction and fiction, and why I haven’t succeeded–yet–in flowing easily from one to the other. I returned to writing a novel a few months ago, and no sooner than fictional words started to flow, this blog slowed to a dribble.

The story I told myself is that writing non-fiction, from direct experience, takes place in a different part of the brain. When one quadrant is active, apparently, the other is not.

Tonight in my head, I heard my mother in her parenting prime many, many decades ago, saying “Hogwash!”

Everything: every object, thought, feeling, sound, and so on, is a modulation of awareness–writing, too. The source of these blogs is identical to the source of my fictional characters. Perhaps, in seeing through and dropping the story, I can move seamlessly from one project to the other.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2014
photo credit: Scientific American

 

 

 

 

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“let it go”

This is a re-post from Panhala Poetry. It spoke to me so strongly I’ve reread it five or six times. Enjoy this e. e. cummings poem.

let it golet it go – the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise – let it go it
was sworn to
go

let them go – the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the boths and
neithers – you must let them go they
were born
to go

let all go – the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things – let all go
dear
so comes love

~ e. e. cummings ~
(Complete Poems 1904-1962)

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