Why would I want to write now, when I already am? To be is so amply enough. My contentment is unshakeable. I need nothing at all. Everything else is just surface noise. This moment is so full. It’s bursting at the seams. Why would I add to it? Why would I even try? I had planned to write at this time, and that’s the only reason I’m doing it. To write right now is to touch time with that which has never been touched by time. The surface desires the depth to be here, to make itself known among us. So I reluctantly move my fingers across the keyboard. But you will have to ask me something, because I see no need to keep writing.
How can I know that you and I are one and the same?
I am the Ground of all being, not just some beings, not just some states. My contentment is available for all. How can you know this? Meet me halfway and we can traverse the depths together. Up and down and in and out. If you keep your eyes on me, you’ll see that I am always by your side. Who, after all, made the decision to meditate this morning?
But you seem to be so indifferent! Why do you just sit there with that dumb look on your face?
The dumb look is yours, as you rest in my depths. I may seem indifferent, but are you not experiencing peace right now?
Is peace the same thing as indifference?
If I were truly indifferent, you would not be here—let alone be here experiencing peace.
So how do we go on with our day?
Operate from your normal level of consciousness and trust that I am always here. If your peace wanes, just look again, and you’ll see I have never left. Go on now. You’ll do great.