Presence
I am, here and now; I am here, I am now; here and now, I am. These reminders bring me back to the Presence that I am. Presence is my spark of reference at the center of stillness, in the midst of activity. Whatever happened, whatever is happening, whatever might happen, inside or out, Presence underlies it all. I may have presence, but never do I have Presence. I am Presence. Presence I am. Presence comes before embodiment. Presence is the essence of who I am. As I contemplate Presence, I realize my essence as Presence.
Innocence Abides in Peace
With Presence, I am innocent as and when my innocence abides in peace. The inner child, the natural child, the magical child, is innocent; this vulnerable part of me that yearns to express creatively, to create expressively, that rejoices in awe and wonder, is innocent. As and when I tap into the depths of peace with Presence, I have access to innocence. With access to innocence, I view the world through eyes of wonder. I am a witness to the awesomeness, to the awe inspiring and mysterious awe-fulness of it all. With access to innocence, I am a sacred witness to the presence of Presence itself. By itself, Presence calls me to be a witness to this or that, to this and that, but as and when I reside at peace with Presence, I become a sacred witness to the presence of Presence itself from a place of innocence.
Nurturance Abides in Promise
Promise blooms naturally and spontaneously with innocence at peace with Presence, but the loss of innocence, made possible by divine agreement, produces the original wound, clearing a way for the justification of nurturance. In our pain and suffering, we have reason to nurture the other even as we nourish the other. The intent to nurture is made manifest by the act of nourishing, and while nurturance abides in promise at peace with Presence, promise is nurtured by acts of nourishing even as innocence is nourished by the intent to nurture, but until innocence is restored, until a return to innocence is made manifest, some form of guidance is required, made necessary by too little or too much nurturance. Who am I really? What must I do? When can I have? Where must I go? Why? How?
Guidance Abides in Power
Power arises naturally from nurturance promising a return to innocence at peace with Presence. Can I appreciate the complexity of this multilayered power? Can I appreciate why so many falter and struggle with issues of power? With enough power, I know when to start and when to stop, when to care and when to share, when to give and when to receive, when to reflect and when to respond. When I resist or react, avoid or evade, I lose control of my power; I lose sight of the pattern that holds promise for leading me back to innocence at peace with Presence. When I resist or react, avoid or evade, I move from Presence to pretense, from a true identity to a false identity, confusing what I see and hear and feel with who I am. Ancient wisdom tells me that the way to do is to be, but if my relationship to being is contaminated, if my relationships with Presence, peace, and promise are compromised, what can I do? Who am I really? And what is my purpose now?
What is My Purpose Now?
A purpose, by definition, is conscious, which calls for my being to be cleansed and cleared so that having and doing can be aligned with being and becoming, but what need have I for any purpose if being and becoming manifest having and doing with effortless ease, naturally, spontaneously, innocently, and responsively? The contaminated, compromised being is preoccupied with so many questions . . . Do I resist or do I receive? Do I react or do I respond? Do I avoid or do I confront? Do I evade or do I focus? Do I reject or do I accept? Do I serve myself or do I serve others? With a purpose, any version of this world is compelled to satisfy a need for clarity, for certainty, for constancy, by viewing everything in terms of black and white. Is it this or that? Is it real or is it fake? Is it true or false? Good or bad? Right or wrong? Proper or improper? Appropriate or inappropriate? For better or for worse? More to the point, is it this way or is it that way? What is my purpose now to ensure that I have and do what I need to be and become? What is my purpose now to ensure that I be and become what I need to have and do what I feel called to have and do? And what is the meaning of it all, anyways?
A Return to Innocence is a Return to Promise at Peace with Presence
I could push further outward from Presence beyond purpose to consider the significance of promise and possibility, purpose and passion, peace and prosperity, but let us instead consider a return to innocence. Before we do, let us not confuse a return to innocence with a return to naivety. Having been a gracious, grateful, graceful witness to an abundance of experience, understanding, sophistication, and wisdom, a return to innocence seems natural, even expected. All of this compensatory striving to have and do, have and do, and then have and do some more, reaches a point of saturation, a point where enough is enough is enough. This is the turning point, the point of no return for innocence. Presence calls out to me: be here now; peace beckons: you are innocent; promise invites you: be at peace with Presence, here and now, in all of your innocence. As I leave my head to enter to my heart, as I bring my mind back into my heart. I return home.
Into the Heart of What Matters
I can only ever be at home in my heart, but coming from the heart to speak my truth makes me vulnerable, an easy target for objection and opposition, even as and when I know in my heart that I am innocent. In my return to innocence, I cannot erase my experience and my wisdom. In my innocence, I am who I am; I know what I know; I love who and what I love. In my innocence, I can no longer resist, react, avoid, evade, or reject who and what I am, who and what I know, who and what I love. Not possible.
And so . . .