The Center Of Beingness

Out of the center, all things come. Come what may all that we can do is simply to relax into it's fruition and come to be that which we already are. Despite the fact of our own unique brand of foolishness, nothing can change who or what we really are. We are as we are and no being, in this world or the next, can ever hold a candle to it's glory. What fortuitous event it is that we are even able to come to recognize such a wonder of creation.

In our haste to satiate desire we fall into the hole we dig for ourselves. Having company with that which acknowledges our being, we gratefully accept any and all occurrences of consequence. Living a lie is nothing compared to the glory of our nature. In so bestowing life, we take it away. Behind the curtain the Master pulls each and every string and yet in the fabulousness of our ignorance we deem that control resides neither outside of ourselves nor within and being so bewildered we find comfort. Can it ever be possible to make sense of this topsy-turvey world?

Sense and sanity occlude the origin of our nature and in being so perplexed we devote our energies to seeking something, one or the other. It really doesn't matter to what we dive into as it all eventually turns up empty anyway. For those of us who take great pride and pleasure in search and discovery satisfaction is permanently etched into oblivion. It is there on the outskirts, on the very edge of periphery that we create an answer to the problems we embrace.

Embracing another object of desire is simply demonstrating another aspect of our monumental immaturity, of our endless supply of creation. That to which we give our attention, we receive. When we seek shallow full-fillment, we get it. When we seek to eliminate our problems of life and living, the call is answered. When we seek, we become - we come to be. Can it be any clearer than that?

Through our beingness, we come to find that we are, but it is not our nature, it is not who or what we really are that 'finds' it's self. We already are, so the question becomes who or what is doing all this searching, all this seeking? We are not like the car keys which go missing and must be found. We are not like a long lost love which must be sought and revealed.

When we search we create an experience within which we full-fill our day-dream. Does it get any more obvious than this?