Finding The Door

Looking lost, we ever search in order that we may find and in the process we merely lose ourselves yet again. Always on the look-out for something more, our attention continuously wavers day in and day out until, at long last, we pay it no mind at all. In this rut of habitual undertaking we not only lose ourselves, we just simply lose. We lose our way, our happiness and the peace of forever slips through our fingers. In this seemingly dark and mysterious past, we cement our future.

Over time, our experiential delight wavers just a tad and we begin to seek, yet again, something more, something different. Ever on the move, our attention expands exponentially until, at long last, it finds purpose and cause. Destitute and dying, we fervently clutch at whatever lies within our grasp oblivious to any and every thing else. Losing our way yet again, we regurgitate the life experience over and over following in the footsteps of our fore-fathers. Isn't it strange how we clear the path only to be doomed to follow it ceaselessly evermore?

Plowing ahead in our conquests of eternity we find mortality is all that it is cracked up to be. In this beingness we call 'I' we find neither peace nor tranquility as these lie way out on the boundaries of our existence. In so keeping them out, we suffer gladly in order that we may live. But for some, this suffering comes to be questioned in the cycle of here and 'then'. Expanding one's attention beyond, we find it. Is it any wonder that we are what we see?

Sooner or later questioning the decision "to be" comes to be endured and in this questioning of high regard we find regard for that which we have tossed to the way-side in our pursuit of luxury. In stroking the Beast we find certainty but in all things possible there is no such thing. It's not a matter of finding one's self, it's more a matter of discarding all those things which we have collected as show pieces. Our trophy wall, so proudly displayed, becomes nothing but an exhibition of some small part of our totality. How is it then, that so many take great refuge in sitting upon that shelf and loudly proclaiming "Look at me! Am I not beautiful!". As beauty is in the eyes of the beholder there is no greater knowledge than of the beholder itself.

In beholding our selves the door reveals itself for all to see.

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