Remembrance of What We Always Are

Meditation hasn’t suddenly started with my words – being always is, I always am. This quiet ever-presence of being is meditation. Knowing of your own being is not a practice or method; it’s an unnoticing, a remembrance of what you always and already are beneath the surface fluctuations of experience – at peace, like the still, silent depths of the ocean beneath the waves. Whatever you are thinking and feeling, you are. Whatever you’re sensing or perceiving, you are. Whatever you’re doing, you are. All spiritual life is this remembrance of who you are – this remembrance of being, abidance as being. As a person, we are always moving, changing, seeking, becoming. As being, we are changeless, motionless, silent, at peace. As a person, we are always in relationship, always in love. When you sink deeply into being, you fall out of time into eternity, out of movement into stillness, out of relationship into love.

Meditation hasn’t suddenly started with my words – being always is, I always am. This quiet ever-presence of being is meditation. Knowing of your own being is not a practice or method; it’s an unnoticing, a remembrance of what you always and already are beneath the surface fluctuations of experience – at peace, like the still, silent depths of the ocean beneath the waves. Whatever you are thinking and feeling, you are. Whatever you’re sensing or perceiving, you are. Whatever you’re doing, you are. All spiritual life is this remembrance of who you are – this remembrance of being, abidance as being. As a person, we are always moving, changing, seeking, becoming. As being, we are changeless, motionless, silent, at peace. As a person, we are always in relationship, always in love. When you sink deeply into being, you fall out of time into eternity, out of movement into stillness, out of relationship into love.