Knowing Me Knowing You

There is nothing I can do. That nothing I can do is, right this moment, writing these words. This blank page before me is, without words on it, nothing. It fades into the background… happy and content to allow these words to stand out.

There is nothing to be done. And that is an awe-full lot.

It's late. A few moments ago I was sitting on a beautiful meditation stool that my uncle made for me. I've not seen him for maybe 5 years… yesterday my mum gave me the stool which is a simple and plain looking piece of wood. And sitting on it just now with no intention to be anywhere other than where I was with what was happening, I began to smile… and then laugh… and then cry. Beautiful warm tears tricked down my cheeks. And I felt deep appreciation and love for the gift I'd received. Blended in with that love and appreciation and with the laughter and tears were memories of feeling like an outcast and unloved and hurt and despairing. A residue of somehow, somewhere not fitting in. Encountering perhaps some wound from the past.

And it felt completely held by this moment. And perfectly ok… more actually than ok. It felt wonderful. Full of wonder to fully feel the pain of the past, right here and now, totally allowed and embraced by this ever open and empty space of now.

Somehow, knowing me is knowing you.

And I met my uncle tonight in his beautifully crafted gift and met this moment, exactly as it appeared… in and out of nothing…

There really is nothing we can do. What an opportunity and what a blessed relief.

Thank you. Thank you.