Words have become shy, as time passes by. Embraces and love remembrances now have more meaning. The inner silence is becoming increasingly deaf to definitions and assertions. There is a sweet mellow happy, as a morning, emerging from a thin veil of fog, inhabiting spaces within. Content, vacuums are fulfilled and somehow the games of yonder and salvation, the wisdom of words spoken or written to define, have ceased to have precedence and need. They all have integrated in the sameness of that silent silence that seems to guide everything.

The tic-tac of dials, the whoosh of hourglasses, the digital shifting of imaginary numbers, might or not have moved again, as always. Ions keep fluxing unstoppably across cell membranes and photons no doubt keep sculpting life and song, as they rain from the sun, accelerated by a desire to be. Yes, each one of our stories unfolds, through coded verses and pulses, as we walk, evolve and laugh. As we meet and conjecture all sorts of melodramas and comedies, which we author and claim as our own.

As we count our passing with time and define being, from this I, me, mine, seemingly unavoidable perspective, we have become forgetful it seems, of the ricocheting of the golden bullets of light from the sun, and the sweet dance of protein molecules in inner spaces, as they explode in orgasms of intimate caresses. Forgotten also are the churnings of delightful mitochondria powerhouses, and those ion migratory fluxes connecting everything inside and outside in a continuum. They all keep the rhythms of life, the substance of our smiles and tears, of our fears and certainty.

Yes, our eyes open many times to look out, but they do not see. Instead we define and cast out images of our own self-importance, missing the intrinsic beauty, that exists beyond hierarchy or classification, beyond time.

We accumulate books and theories and explanations, as we cannot bear the awesomeness of just being. Therefore, we started the bookkeeping of dawns, counting how many times the sun winks, allowing mother night to come forth, with her mantle studded with silver points of light. And we extend the endless tic-tac to as far as our calculations can take us to guess a long number for the history of the first light, or to predict in a distant future, the moment of endless night.

We meet, we come across each other, these amazing temples of consciousness, and we look at ourselves, but we do not know who we really are. Instead we compare, accept, project and reject against the definitions we have identified with, as we try to escape from just being in awe.

But sometimes, we cross our paths and embrace and recognize the same one silence inspiring all, and we feel like smiling, and empathy overwhelms us, in floods of love. We then feel amazed, overjoyed, and absolutely compassionate, when moments of recognition shine, our common photons flow in dance and our ion fluxes link seamlessly in the enchantment of just being.

So, as we continue to count and play our games, in our fear of total awe, let’s celebrate those few détente moments of awe that we take when the counting stops, and our hearts resonate in embraces so deep, that all thinking ends.

What a wonderful life it is then, no matter what second or year elapses, when we lose the fear to see as we look and surrender ourselves to the awe of just Being now.