Passion is a River

Sometimes I feel like the luckiest man in the world and sometimes I feel cursed. Most of the time I feel hurried and behind schedule. Once in awhile I arrive at a silent window of total peace that wakes me from my cultural sleep. I find myself totally in the moment; hand in hand with a completely silent mind; I know that there is a freedom beyond anything I've imagined. I sense it's power, it's vast and great Profundity, like the sun itself, obvious, alien... and then it slips away. "Slipping" is an inaccurate verb. for I believe 'it' doesn't slip away, but that it is I who sail away from "it", or careen off into realms of my own desiring. Desire pulls consciousness, bends the attention, draws us towards that magical mirage of something wanted. Desire has the ability to shape will; pure and unfettered the will arises as the handmaiden of desire. Will is the servant of intention, neutral, loyal, waiting for the call. The deeper the passion the clearer the call.

Passion is our river, Will is the vessel that rides the waves, desire is the land not yet seen...