A Noble Truth of Its Own

A Noble truth of its own:

My experience verifies itself, not as any deep truth itself, but that I’m aware of it’s happening — and this a noble truth of its own, and the only one I know for certain. This is the path of the moment, revelations given by the senses, thoughts unfolding to a witnessing field, and all occurring each instant, unvarnished by story, innocent and intimate in their presence. It’s the simplicity of what is, how it all changes even by first appearance — and that somehow I find myself aware to what’s present, able to note life as motion, and come to terms with all that passes. My experiences verify only that I’m aware.

To this moment, the right now of my morning, and I find myself in writing mood. There is a sense of anticipation, a slight fear at first sight of empty page, and then the feel of keyboards in confident trust of what will appear. So much of writing is simply waiting. Sounds are carried to me, birds providing song, distant cars, outside life arriving to my morning. I can see past my office to the window, witnessing this arrival too by sunlit leaves that reach from trees to find my windowsill, getting a sense of breeze from a branches sway, moisture gathered on leaves from a late night rain. This is all drawn to my attention, an act of determined watchfulness on my part. Yet it all occurs through subtle presence, a seamless awareness that lends…