this we have now.

A toddler stumbles. Laughter for this new sensation. A parent holds her breath. A tree falls. In the decay of bark and leaves, insects weave their nests. I drop on my knees amid the rubble of the world. Ten thousand things arise and vanish, ten thousand perspectives arise and must vanish as well.

What can tell us what is real? I mean, really real? What holds, creates and absorbs all these comings and goings? Can we know the real, or are we merely bound to temporary appearances?

Perhaps reality is straightforward. Perhaps all we can say is that the experiencing itselfis real. Even if the ten thousand things arise and subside. Perhaps there is no need to interpret the reality of what is happening, the experiencing and perceiving, the arising and the disappearing. Perhaps to know the real is not a knowing the way we might know the ten thousand things. Perhaps what is real is the experiencing itself, which means, us, being aware?

Perhaps to know the real is simply being aware?

Our perspectives, our points of view - they are like all the other things, unstable but for the stable background of our experiencing, our perceiving. Reality just is - the essence and substratum of all the happenings. It all just is, within and as Reality, within and as Presence, a stable background, here and now.

Perhaps we are Presence? Nothing to search for, but being what we are. Already. Aware. This is peace.

But can we know it, call out for it, reach it? Be still and listen.

Presence calls us. Because we are already That. We are already called. Because we already intuit where true peace can be found. We are already peace. Presence, indivisible.

“This we have now,” Rumi wrote.

“This we have now
is not imagination.
This is not
grief or joy.
Not a judging state,
or an elation,
or sadness.
Those come and go.
This is the presence that doesn’t”

Just presence. The unicity of the ten thousand things that were never apart as things. Just reality that expresses itself. There is no where where presence is not. There is no moment when the ground of what is is not already here.

So what binds us to that which is really real? Can we know it? We are it. In being, Reality is its own knowing.

What happens if we turn the question around. What binds us to our separate-self point of view? To the ten thousand things?

Perhaps it’s a choice that Presence makes, Because it is interesting. Because then we can stumble and laugh, or hold our breath. We can drop on our knees and perceive rubble. We can appreciate trees and birds, nests and orchids, snow flakes and the depths of the human heart.

Presence ever reveals itself to itself in the ten thousand things. We are the beauty we behold.

Wars will keep happening. Inner battles will continue. We may continue to think that life is too complicated. But perhaps it is not. We know This. A glimpse, a possibility.

“There is not a single separate entity in this entire universe,” the teacher Jean Klein often said. Beauty and love have always been here. Awareness trembles to express the ten thousand things. You are That.

this we have now |. credit emile sequin | unsplash