Photo Credit Linda Schoenthal

in stillness I am fulfilled

It is not without saying, pain and suffering existential hold of human psychotic continuation, intercalating the daily grind, introducing new possibilities, transcending constructs of being. Within our own chasten beliefs, like a distant galaxy waiting to be discovered, we need only fuel transportation, completing life’s journey.

Seeking out this pursuit of happiness, unbeknownst absolute meaning of what may be, nevertheless, forward appetence, fiercest of intensities, eyes burning hot with a laser-like vision for what’s to come. In a glimpse, given unto me, purest of joy, peaceful tranquility-I did it, it found me-this is Eudaimonia! And just like that, it is taken.

For a moment in time, sharing space with ‘All There Is,’ ecstatic bliss within and out of the field of possibilities, we’ve become what we sought for so long. Snatched instantaneously, with thoughts of finding such joy, infusing pain and suffering, returning as quickly as thoughts might permeate, what just happened?

Cogito, ergo sum, Descartes declaring truth in plain sight. Born into reality, single breath kissing the ether; intertwining, co-mingling dance with inspiration, born into life, from unseen to known physicality. We think therefore we are.

We are happy paralleled thoughts say it is so, contrasting misery, for we are that too. We are what we see, feel, think, and believe to be true. Intermediary source translating thought as to generational, collective ideologies, whichever wolf we feed leading the way.

This fundamental concept of pure happiness, escaping thought transcending mindful understanding, remains in silence or absence of mind in all its misery. Sitting with our drunkard selves, tears flooding life’s meadow, washing away distaste, formalities of being present, Eureka’s moment returns.

Cut off the head, clouded mind tainting our wine. Rose-colored glasses, beer goggles coming into focus, what was-is no longer, what was a fantasy-becoming living word, throwing out the playbook from second-century dogmatic ways, we are becoming.

~ Ani Po

Photo Credit Linda Schoenthal

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