All Appears

All appears:

it all appears spontaneously, everything — each morning I awaken to an entirely new world, from eyes closed to sudden appearance, and even the familiar is subtle in its changes, never quite the same with every view. Life arises, free of the burden of meaning, and it’s only by assigning a certain sense of purpose does it seem to become mundane.

everything appears as mystery.

and I include myself in this, that every night there is a forgetting of the day before, my own self lost to a depth of slumber. The only experience is one of nothing, and until I awaken, or move to a state of dreaming — I am absent from existence. Yes, there is a heartbeat, and still a lightness of the breath, but there is no one present to experience them. It’s life happening on its own, without my conscious, willful participation.

until I awaken.

it’s with this that I claim the world — it’s my heartbeat, and my breath taken and released. Everything becomes mine. Yet what I miss is how this sense of self arises with the morning, it’s my own dawn of becoming, that from the depth of nothing another day appears, and somehow I am there to give it welcome.

and more so, and again, it’s all spontaneous — no reminder is set for a self to appear with every morning, I simply find myself here, present and aware. Such an…