The Miracle of Ordinary Awareness

The greatest adventure of all is to quit seeking. Do I have the courage to end my flight from the ordinary?

Juicing the mind with bliss is just another addiction. Why do I need to travel to India, to wait in line for a holy man’s darshan? The tantra they taught me on the mountaintop turns out to be a distraction when I'm shopping for potatoes.

Some speak about the miracle of ordinary things. But stones, weeds, and abandoned robins' nests are not miracles until I enfold them with ordinary awareness. To be awake is the miracle. Am I awake enough to see my waking?

No need to taste the wine of Jesus when I gaze at a withered zucchini through the boundless sky of my own eyeball. While I'm searching for yet another Yoga technique, I lose the precious opportunity to make use of the commonplace, the sacrament of boredom. I am feeling so ordinary today. What grace!

I should know by now that on this wild little planet, more stimulation is not necessary. Neither the nectar of bhakti nor the spice of tantra will liberate this mind: the humdrum is a better place for practice.

Boredom is a signal to wake up. Don't just look; look at what is looking. Not at angels, nor at Jesus, nor the celestial glory of the Blessed Virgin. Just look at the one who is looking. That is what Saint Francis told his brother to do. How ordinary!

It is easier to transcend from a neutral state than from excitement or stimulation. I gracefully slip into the infinite, not by getting a kick from a tangy rush of Shakti, but through the transparency of ordinary awareness. Unflavored attention is nearer to freedom than the salt and pepper of vision or ecstasy. Trust in the depths of what is not there. Your emptiness is not a destination, but a door.

Remember the "trust fall," that delicious, blind and backward surrender into the arms of a teenager? Are you not trustworthy? Right now, just fall backward into the groundless well of your own Being. No one will catch you, thank God.

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