The water in my jar splashes about with its own turbulence
and turbidity.
My molecules of thought rise up out of nothing, pause – long
enough to be noticed if I’m paying attention, and fade back into the
nothingness.
But if I set my jar down, the H2O settles and becomes mostly
still. Yet, the molecules continue to move unseen. Vibrations of the passing
truck or distant airplane are reflected in them. Heat from the sun moves them. Even
the normally unnoticed shifts in gravity give them a stir.
The universal field flows around and through my molecules,
undetectable as long as my water is splashing. But if I set myself down, momentarily,
my awareness will settle down through the coarse waves of the crowd, the buzz
of mills; down through the whisper of winds and the rush rush of my blood; down
to the electromagnetic fields of the sun and of the earth’s resonant field; and
I become one with the universe.
And I realize that my inner movement never ceases, but only
splashes about to a different influence, that finer ebb and flow of the
universal field. And there, at the least point, is the present moment where I finally
sense the substantial light of the expanse shifting to and fro, the flow
stretching thin to virtual nothingness and the vortices attracting and concentrating
matter into being.
Into this ocean I set my calm jar and release my molecules –
the form of my single-minded thought – into nothingness which is everything
everywhere. A little while, and my molecules begin to swirl, to attract others,
to concentrate force and substance, until I am surprised by my jar leaping back
out of the ocean and – along with it comes my thought form in full physical manifestation
to dance with me.
So, it seems that there is no inner stillness. There is only
a matching of the wave’s droplet back into the ocean; and the ocean spits it
back upon the shore – with its driftwood – for a while, to be taken anew
another day.
