Kabir Kadre
Kabir Kadre

We are that this is.

Kabir Kadre|2 years, 5 months ago

“Limitless means limitless” says Dan (https://pointingoutway.org).

I come to these words (these words, not those words) through a body filled with spasticity. I imagine perhaps a little dehydration may have to do with that.

As the light faded outside, a warm golden glow piercing the chill of the January evening, I could feel the creeping tension in my flesh. Muscles contracting, both specifically and generally throughout my being; an unpredictable turbulence in the little ocean of presence.

It’s just after 6:30 PM and I’m writing these words in the moments following meditation class that I try each Wednesday to make. If I were on the East Coast of the United States, and in Boston in particular, I would go in person. I assume the hall is wheelchair accessible (https://www.thebccp.com) though never having asked, or otherwise investigated I cannot be sure. As it is, I’m on the West Coast of the United States. A meditation on timelessness offered at 7:30 PM, arrives for me at 4:30 PM.

The offering is one of the best I know and I recommend it to anyone with an interest in a meditation practice with a purpose (https://pointingoutway.org/retreats/). Today, as I’ve inferred, the meditation and lecture was on the subject of timelessness. An experience of vast spaciousness in which, even the metaphor of an ocean is like a drop emerged containing an awareness that contained moments, containing a moment, containing me, containing the thought of the meditation class which holds the teaching.

A nice recursive loop, but somehow pure of any paradox or exclusion. This, for me, on the tail end of a day of many little discrete tasks, micro-moments of activity, woven somehow, not jumbled, together.

I’ll take them, or rather a selection, in no particular order – perhaps in honor of a childish conception of time – a cup of coffee in the sun, feeling the cool air; a trip to the doctor, to be treated for the moments karma of eternity; a drive through time with the voice of an old friend echoing in my ears, my words a prayer for their well-being; a kind lawyer, a stranger offering advice on the matters at hand of Medi-Cal and trust, of uncertain journey and likely footings; the correspondence of sincere collaborators, and writing in seek of generous reflection.

“Mind moments.” Little conceptions of a human existence, one facet in the diamond of all of us together, you and I, then and now, somehow an expression of longing to embody love more fully.

It seems true, coming to this writing straight out of meditation is going to produce a different quality of narrative. Charles, today you said you preferred the descriptions of the external over the internal, you recognized that some prefer the other.

There is a quiet, occasional tap or shuffle from the kitchen as Miss Cassandra graciously prepares the evening meal. The house is otherwise quiet, an occasional squeak that we never have been able to stop from the backrest on my wheelchair, traffic sounds both Terran and aerial reverberate with various intensity.

I’ll close now, in part to honor sweet Katie who has been following these words and having trouble keeping up for the length of it, but also simply because this day feels long, and I still have path to walk before resting. I would share now the dream from last night, but there will be other dreams, and it is after all only internal. Not that I prefer the internal or the external, only that it is a sweet paradox that in closing I can leave you, dear reader, in the silence of the moment, your external self, in your external setting, limitless in grace.

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