How strange to not be needed.
The old rules no longer work.
Her letters arrive the way birds arrive in one's field of vision.
Her words are always familiar, almost like echoes.
The brain hunts for problems to solve.
It is hungry like the chickadees who gather at the feeder.
It is clever like the squirrel that works diligently in their midst.
And predatory as the neighborhood cats who pass through murderous.
Thought is good for discovering the limits of thought but no more.
One makes contact with the space in which what happens happens.
There is always ever only one thing happening.
It is simple but the brain has evolved to obscure it.
We have created opposition where none exists.
We have hidden what is sought in the seeker.
We are agonizingly clever.
One notices then the verbs that she uses.
Release, surrender, give in, flow.
One notices too the nature of resistance.
It is like a war, an internal conflict with impossible stakes.
It is a dream, she says, from which we awakened long ago.