the going gets strange

chewing over the sense that perhaps there is some last thing to *do* - a construct of the mind if ever there was one - i come to the only perfect clarity on the subject. it is the sense of will, the last vestiges of the little brain-cluster that thinks it is doing any of this.

after christmas, i have been watching my life, in a very odd way as i may have mentioned: it is like i can see angela, but she cannot see me.

and watching the world is by turns strange, fascinating, mysterious, ineffable and if i were to think about it too long, stark and a bit scary.

i find my heart to be the one who saves me from the fear, because my faith in the order of the universe lights the way, as i watch angela, and realize that those actions, and all the thoughts that go with it, are not decided upon by me. i am not directing it, i am watching.

and so, the going gets strange. and all i can see is that the sense that there is anything left to do, is in fact the deathknell of the do-er. i thought a few weeks back i had come to the end of personal will (and that's what i get for thinking!) but this is of another order entirely.

it gets very, very surreal right here. the Seeing takes over large chunks of the day, and angela is spread very thin indeed. i know myself as no-thing but the engagement of that mystery by the mind produces tightness.

i am looking at my fingers as i type this entry and i am awed, absolutely awed into deep silence, by the realization, the Knowing, that i am not animating the movement. the mind's ownership of the action seems to arise as quickly as the action itself, creating the illusion of someone here doing something. but that is not the case.

and so, for now, the going gets strange, watching all illusion crumble that i ever really existed at all. the faith of the heart and the love of god/spirit/mystery is the draw into the surrender, and i am grateful, so grateful for the movement there, which keeps me grounded and full of love during what is proving to be a very strange week.