Hi Reader,

I forgot something in last week's email.

In a way it's frustrating that I forgot it. But in a way it's understandable. I'm not sure I've ever managed to remember this for more than a couple minutes. It's either very hard, if not impossible, to remember; or I'm really bad at it. Or both.

I got a few replies about this thing I forgot. So you may have noticed. I'm grateful for the noticing, and the replies.

So what did I forget?

The twisty way to say it is that being not home is contained within being home. The woo woo way to say it is that being home is the true reality in its nonduality and the appearance of its other half (being not home) is illusory.

Actually I kind of suck at saying it both those ways, but here's a simple way to say it: accept everything.

It's not like there's actually a real problem when I'm running my filters. I've just created that there's a problem.

It's not like there's actually a real problem when I'm not present. I've just made up what I "should" and "shouldn't" be doing.

A "being home" response to not being home is not a trite "well, dummy, stop not being home." Instead, it's to realize that not being home is part of the expression of being home.

(It's funny how silly all of this looks when typed out. I have an inkling that the next layer deeper here has to do with what I create, but more about that some other time, hopefully next week if it's ready.)

I'm not sure I want to go as far as to say "none of it matters," but that seems to be more-or-less the case. It's not like me or my life are significant in any real way to all of the everything going on in the universe. I and my life are infinitesimals.

It's even hard to write an email like this reflecting on last week's reflection, because of the temptation to say something like, "well, THIS week I'll just accept everything and it'll be better!"

Maybe there is no better. Maybe it all just is what it is. Maybe if I can't sit with that and find whatever peace there is to be had right now I'll never find peace because I'm looking for it in a place that doesn't exist (i.e. not-now).

Whoo, boy. Contemplating relaxing into that feels like giving up absolutely everything. On the one hand that's so scary it makes my bones hurt. On the other hand, I wonder what's on the other side of it?

I guess part of the point of making a sacrifice is that you don't know if there's going to be a payoff. But maybe I have to burn down the house to see what's left to come home to.