Or, Infinity In a Box
I think Presence gets a bad rap.
It isn’t sitting quietly with open attention (except when it is).
it isn’t a smile or a nod or a peaceful pose (except when it is).
It isn’t gentle or passive, silent or still (except when it is).
Presence is WILD
As wild as it is tame
As healthy as it is lame
It’s loud and it’s quiet
It’s small and it’s giant
It’s messy and clean
It’s kind and it’s mean.
I think presence is boxed in.
It’s not just serene!
It’s life and it’s death and it’s all things between.
I think presence is misunderstood.
It is sitting crossed-legged,
But it’s also doing handstands,
And back flips and lounging around.
It slouches, it stiffens, it slows and it quickens.
It’s resting and raging, it’s sobbing and shaking,
It’s hurting, it’s healing, it’s giving it’s taking.
Presence is being in control and completely out of it.
It’s as much resistance as it is persistence.
Presence is alive, fluid, and utterly undefinable
Because the moment we’ve got it, it’s gone,
It moves on.
Presence. Pre-sense. Pre-logic.
Whatever happens before we try to make any meaning.
Coming into Presence is coming into YES
A YES to whatever is.
A YES to truth, a YES to lies
YES to transparency, YES to disguise.
It’s YES to together
and YES to alone
YES to a whisper and YES to a moan.
It’s YES to knowing and knowing not,
A YES to composure and YES to distraught.
It’s a YES to a No and Yes to a Yes
A YES to perfection and everything less.
It’s a YES to the many and a YES to the few,
And if none of this lands, it’s a YES to that too.
I can say for myself, I’ve been
defining it waaaaay too small.
I’ve tried to cram it into word, a concept, a posture a pose,
A teacher, a teaching, someone else who knows
I’ve smashed it and squished it and whittled it down.
I’ve narrowed it, hushed it, crammed it, and crushed it.
I have been trying to fit infinity into a box!
And Thank God, I have failed.
Because every time I try to pin it down,
And frankly, so do I.
But luckily there’s one thing that always helps me rise.