the now * 8/28/13

The world with content

is not in the now.

The notice of content is a fallback position.

That referential layer is not immediate.

It is imminently secondary

in those nanoseconds before recognition fills.

Now has no language forming.

Any language that appears in the now

has to come in a channeled way

where all parties hear it for the first.

Our assumed now, with the eyes,

has too narrow of a focus.

Now is a gaze focus

where variables of motion interact.

Flow is the confluence screen seen.

Now does not generate recognition

in the ordinary sense.

Our normal recognition is like a still camera 

taking shots then processed into language code

and subsequently meaning appears

as the frontal preoccupation to our real now.

Now has no boundaries.

Everything is fluid with energetic integrities

but for us,

we are on a limited sensory input roll.

Since are senses are tuned to register symbols

and have limited range of perceptual training,

the import of what is sensed

is mostly menu related,

sensing what we already know.

We generally reside

in the affirming involvement

as the fill of our reality surmise.

We are behaviorally preoccupied,

sensorially consumed, and mentally flooded

with this nature of interactiveness

as our consciousness.

We are basically flush

with what is in front of us

and the doing of it that it presents.

Now is a difficult concept to participate in.

Now is unlike the rest of experience.

We take experiential baggage into the now.

The frame modality for the now

is not fixative in nature.

You are not a spectator.

There is nothing referential to be gained.

It all plays

and you are party to this as yourself.

There is no sense of command.

This transition reminds me of this process:

Imagine you are deathly afraid of water,

afraid of drowning. Even bathtubs bother you.

Neurotically you don’t like it when it rains.

Fountains and birdbaths are aversions.

But you are drawn to what you fear.

So it’s rain off the roof that you ponder,

feet in puddles, wading in baby pools,

idly sitting by a running creek,

leaning out, on a bridge

over a fast flowing river,

a day at the beach and eventually

a walk near a lake water.

Setbacks are internal but the draw is on.

Finally there are longer showers,

a careful time in some else’s Jacuzzi,

a view of the ocean from high above,

a run on that beach below, playful splashing,

and dodging wave surges up the beach.

Another day at the ocean happens,

the air, the surf, the waves lapping,

carefully water up to your knees,

a surprising wave up your back,

your balance lost,

and now your are simply floating as swimming,

still there are haunts in the back of your mind.

For it’s always been you and then the water.

Now you in the water.

Carefully it’s manageable.

Parts of it are playful.

Look around, everyone else in the water

is secretly favorable applause.

You are buoyant and float without a struggle.

Many revisits later, it’s a wonder.

That inner fear is very remote but present,

easily overcome in a flash.

Now swimming here and there,

out and about, big waves get handled.

Surf is a frenetic ride of sorts,

just you and the water.

And then it happens.

A break through is possible.

You get caught in a rip current.

All of your previous information,

your entire relationship with water 

that led you to this point is challenged.

Swimming is a struggle.

It is you against the water.

Old histories and fears leap into the fray.

Panic and doubt surface in the mix.

Physical fatigue begins to burden.

Your worst vision is about to happen.

The struggle weighs heavily.

And then, by some strange fate,

either you surrender or you break frame.

And you stop fighting the water.

The water will take you to your fate now.

And in relaxing, you feel the current,

not as the enemy but as a flow,

kind of like a stream current.

You go with it in small strokes.

You relax just enough

to get a sense of the water’s movement,

that you are one with the water,

working together.

So you angle off to the side of the current

and the push against your body ceases.

You are now just bobbing in the ocean,

far from shore but free.

The water is not the enemy

you can be fluid with it, in it.

You can be one with the ocean.

And as much as there was a struggle

and you are tired,

you have made the initial breakthrough:

Now is like the ocean itself.

And you are part of it.

You feel it.

It dances with you.

It’s like riding bareback on a swift pony

when you rhythm connect.

It’s all of a water slide downward.

It’s underwater dives and you up for air.

A wave is a mood passing.

Current is a deeper sweeping cause.

The water, an intimacy shared.

Now, the real now, leaves words behind

for you to,

just be.