All Is Well

the peace that depends on nothing

The trees here are aflame with color, colored leaves are everywhere, on the ground and drifting down through the air. Some trees are almost bare. Winter is in the air.

Life is endlessly unfolding itself without ever departing from here-now-presence. It is always just this—endlessly changing shape, but always this aliveness. The mind can be full of sound and fury, imagining all sorts of futures, trying to explain the inexplicable and grasp the ungraspable, but when the mind stops, all that sound and fury melts away and there is a quiet stillness. All is well. As Nisargadatta said, “It does not matter much what happens, for ultimately the return to balance and harmony is inevitable. The heart of things is at peace.” In that open spaciousness, we see the perfection in everything, even the apparent imperfection.

May we all discover this peace and abide in it, as it, when we can. That doesn’t mean action can’t or won’t happen. But when it emerges from presence, from love, it tends to be vastly more intelligent than when it emerges from mental confusion and the reactivity of emotion-thought. But of course, ultimately, it’s all part of the same inseparable, undivided, seamless, boundless dance, even the apparent confusion and reactivity. There really are no mistakes.

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A Friend Whose Work I Very Highly Recommend:

I want to introduce you to my friend Marcus Fellowes, who has recently launched a website that I very highly recommend, and I very highly recommend Marcus. He’s offering group and private chats, and there is great video, audio and writing on the website. I’ve been dipping into all of it this evening, listening, watching, reading, and it has brought me deep peace. Beautiful, clear, simple.

Marcus lives a quiet, reclusive life in the English countryside with his wife, their two boys and two dogs. He doesn't see himself as a coach, teacher or mentor; instead, he likes to think of himself as “a friend and fellow traveller on this magical mystery tour we call Life.” Marcus is the one who created Darryl Bailey’s website, so those two are old friends. I’m so happy Marcus is putting himself out there, although of course, it’s not about him, it’s about life, this very moment. And he expresses it beautifully.

Update on December 18: Marcus has taken down his website, having decided to "step back into reclusivity.” He found that being out there publicly was “not his cup of tea.” It was a beautiful website, and if he ever changes his mind, I’ll let you all know.

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In response to a question about if and when to stop reading spiritual books:

I'd say it's about developing a sensitivity to where the urge to read a spiritual book is coming from. Are we feeling something we don't want to feel, and then reaching for a book the same way we might reach for a cigarette, a drink, or an extra piece of cake? 

If so, it might be a healthier escapist move than any of those, and it might even bring us home and serve us well. Our urges, desires, wants, and abilities happen choicelessly, so whatever happens, it is the only possible.

But it can be noticed when we're clinging to a book, endlessly reading the menu instead of daring to actually eat the meal. That’s like arriving at a new place and then endlessly studying the maps and the travel brochures instead of actually stepping outside into that new place. And when we notice that happening, maybe we put down the map and step outside. Doesn't mean we can never pick up the map again. Maps are useful. Spiritual books can be wonderful reminders to stop, look and listen.

Yes, the recommended book list on my website is very long. But please remember, I'm 76 years old, and I first read some of those books when I was a teenager. As an author, some have been sent to me by fellow authors for an endorsement, so I read them. Some I've read out of curiosity because of what I've heard about them. Some were handed to me along the way by a friend. Some I found on the bookshelves some place.

Reading from diverse spiritual perspectives has been helpful, because each seems to illuminate a different aspect of this living reality. In different moments, different ones are what I need to hear.

I still sometimes pull an old favorite off my bookshelves and dip into it, or buy a new book because it's someone whose work I love or someone I’ve heard about. I love books, and I love words, and I enjoy reading. It's like eating a nourishing meal or indulging in a great piece of chocolate cake. I enjoy it. 

And then, sometimes I can feel I'm reaching for a book in an escapist or addictive way, from a place of avoidance and discomfort. And when that happens, sometimes I find myself indulging in the avoidance, and sometimes I find myself stopping and feeling the discomfort, being curious about it, exploring it, letting it unfold and reveal itself, not moving away. I haven't found anyone here in control of which of those two possibilities wins out in any given moment, and I don't find myself judging one of these moves as wrong and the other as right. Both are simply the movement of life at that moment. None of it is any more personal than the changing weather outside.

All the books I've truly loved, and those I’ve written, all point to the living actuality here and now, and eventually, we put down the books and taste the living actuality directly. That's the point after all. But that doesn't mean we can never pick up a book again. Reading is one of the many ways this living actuality shows up. And most of us seem to need reminders from time to time, companions on the timeless journey to the placeless place we have never actually left.

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Love to all…