Kabir Kadre
Kabir Kadre

Falling everywhere…

Kabir kadre|2 years, 1 month ago

I barely recall any feelings of heaviness or distress from last evening. I seem to remember as though there was some sense of the fullness of the day. Nothing particularly untoward, rather it was a good day with what I felt was healthy productivity, some creative breakthroughs, and a pleasant local atmosphere.

Still there was the ambiguous sense of the world and our collective reactivity to this “everything but the kitchen sink” circumstance in which we find ourselves.

Long-term sociopolitical economic strains and factors, the relationship of modernism to the environment, the rise of complex nationstate tensions, and the continued unraveling of karma have met global pandemic, supply chain breakdowns, and now Murder Hornets.

Human beings struggle to find love, connection, and a sense of security within themselves, and play this out in confusion with one another in intimate, familial, friendly, cultural, and ideological spaces. The alien tourists, I expect, are finding this quite the remarkable parade.

In the midst of this, I suffer my own confusion – what am I, as this nature of timeless boundless fullness realizing itself arising and passing away in the emptiness of form? The poet again…

“For hundreds and thousands of years I lived as a mineral. Then I died and was reborn a plant.

For hundreds and thousands of years I lived as a plant. Then I died and was reborn an animal.

For hundreds and thousands of years I lived as an animal. Then I was reborn as a human.

What did I ever lose in dying?”


Yet here in the eternal moment in the midst of all of this there is a longing to express love, to care for the world, to dance and sing and celebrate beauty…

What is the balance of knowing the way and discovering it as it unfolds beneath one’s feet?

There is a sadness for the loss we are all living in, there is a sadness for the loss yet to come, there is a joy for the beauty we have been, and bliss for all that remains.

I think there were feelings of heaviness or distress last evening, but I don’t recall in particular.

I do recall sharing with Caroline the different stories that have emerged when approaching the page in the evening or in the morn. The evenings having been characterized by a rich expression of the concrete events and emotions and thoughts from the day, while the mornings seem more effervescent, perhaps etheric, quiet spacious and pregnant with the possibility of the day to follow.

I slept even better last night, continuing the trend of improvement. Time seems precious and uncertain with all that I must find or build beneath my feet in order to stand firm and offer. Then again, maybe the practice is just learning to appreciate the groundless flying and to find the freedom of giving from there.

Kitchen sounds tell me breakfast is almost ready. The smell tells me I’m going to like it. I’m going outside to eat, it will be a busy day and I will want to stay focused, I’ll have to bring outside back in with me when I come.

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God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…