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30 Mar '06 06:06It has suddenly struck me—like a thought that you have long known you knew, but kept forgetting—that of the few things in this life that I actually know, there is only one that I know well enough and truly enough to be worth the effort and the attempt to share:
I just call it “the simple bliss of being.”
That is as far as I can go in describing it. If those words don’t sound any small bell of recognition in your consciousness, even if you would use different words, there is nothing I can do about it: I am not wise enough. If they do ring a bell, then you know.
This simple bliss might be manifest in, say, the song of a mockingbird, or the thrum of bees on a warm morning; or a scattering of stars in a midnight winter sky, or a thundering summer storm; or the face of the beloved; or the play of the passionate mind; or the simple drawing of a breath. But even in times of fear or frustration, in pain, or in maelstrom of grief—it abides, like a background radiance, a subterranean vibration, needing only a bit of vigilance to seep into awareness, needing only to be noticed, to not be forgotten... (And I have sometimes forgotten.)
I may not have stated that with philosophical or psychological correctness. No matter. That is how it seems to me.
It also seems to me to be of great worth: a discovery whose measure outstrips the cost and the hardships of the voyage; enough and more than enough; a pearl of great price. It is not mystical. It is not even special—just the simple bliss of being.
And so long as it abides, I choose to abide in it, to embrace it, to live it. I am going to take the time to once again allow it to soak more deeply into my consciousness.
I thank you all for a couple years of enjoyable argument and learning. I have no more arguments to make.
__________________________________
And when like her, oh Saki, you shall pass
Among the Guests star-scattered on the Grass,
And in your joyous errand reach the spot
Where I made one—turn down an empty glass!
Tamam Shud
—Omar Khayyam
__________________________________
Good-bye, and be well.
I just call it “the simple bliss of being.”
That is as far as I can go in describing it. If those words don’t sound any small bell of recognition in your consciousness, even if you would use different words, there is nothing I can do about it: I am not wise enough. If they do ring a bell, then you know.
This simple bliss might be manifest in, say, the song of a mockingbird, or the thrum of bees on a warm morning; or a scattering of stars in a midnight winter sky, or a thundering summer storm; or the face of the beloved; or the play of the passionate mind; or the simple drawing of a breath. But even in times of fear or frustration, in pain, or in maelstrom of grief—it abides, like a background radiance, a subterranean vibration, needing only a bit of vigilance to seep into awareness, needing only to be noticed, to not be forgotten... (And I have sometimes forgotten.)
I may not have stated that with philosophical or psychological correctness. No matter. That is how it seems to me.
It also seems to me to be of great worth: a discovery whose measure outstrips the cost and the hardships of the voyage; enough and more than enough; a pearl of great price. It is not mystical. It is not even special—just the simple bliss of being.
And so long as it abides, I choose to abide in it, to embrace it, to live it. I am going to take the time to once again allow it to soak more deeply into my consciousness.
I thank you all for a couple years of enjoyable argument and learning. I have no more arguments to make.
__________________________________
And when like her, oh Saki, you shall pass
Among the Guests star-scattered on the Grass,
And in your joyous errand reach the spot
Where I made one—turn down an empty glass!
Tamam Shud
—Omar Khayyam
__________________________________
Good-bye, and be well.
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