Roots

There is a foundation, a ground to all things. That ground can be referred to as Being. There are roots to all things that appear. When we talk about the universe, nature, physics, or when we talk about humanity, people, history, culture, there are real ‘roots’.

But, as soon as they are objectified, as soon as they are made into something to be studied and discussed, they cease to be the actual roots. They become phantoms of discourse, while the real roots go on living and bearing up into bloom as the world of apparition.

The habits of thought and the desire to know by analysis, through dialogue, or even through enwording intuition are like a constant rip tide pulling us away from our home ground into an impossible tangle. The causes and conditions for any single thing or event are, even if limited to the categories of human cognition, virtually endless in all directions of time and space. Paradigm, order, logic, dialectic, even cause itself, are at best flickers in the far distance in land under night, or names called in a dream.

Maybe it’s best to go with the simplest intuition of what is good and what is harmful, for action, and otherwise just let be.

Whatever is arising, even in our subjective consciousness, is coming from a place that is neither subjective nor objective. It comes from a primal state or ground that is without contrivance, caprice, and is real, honest, and home.

The world and life and all things here appear full of suffering and living innocence is as a hatchling in a nest on fire, perpetually coming to light only to burn. Let’s not add to it, as far as we may. Let’s try rather to be at home, without being blown about in the whirlwind of the world.

To be at home is to stand in a ground that does not appear, with roots down in a place that cannot be analysed, dissected, articulated, related, spoken of, named. It’s just itself- everything is it’s expression.