Passing Through

There are times when I see a place or an object, and notice an inner sensation, a feeling that all before me - is just passing through. And me along with it.

There might be delicate tendrils tickled by a hint of a breeze, or mysterious forms that seem to shape-shift in ruffling water. It frequently occurs when a horizon seems to dissolve and when distinct edges and separations suddenly seem less so. The feeling is of uncertainty, insubstantiality, impermanence. There’s little to hold onto, but then less by which to be confined.

Stepping back, I find that western classical thinkers posited that all is in constant motion. Eastern sages held that all things arise from nothingness, and to nothingness it returns. The ancient masters as well as modern neuroscientists have shown that there is no separation between one who looks and what one sees.

Making these images tasks me with opening to that in-separateness, examining feelings but quieting thoughts, with being aware of other ways they might manifest. Seeing each afterward is to loosen my grip on things - and theirs on me - just a little bit more.