A few days ago I sliced up two of my fingers fairly deeply.
I’ve been redoing the metal roof on someone’s house. Yesterday it rained, and while up on the roof I stepped on a slippery patch carelessly. My feet went out from under me, and as I was sliding down the roof, I reached out to catch myself and prevent myself from falling off.
I grabbed the edge of the panel of roofing I had just put on. It sliced into my fingers as it also slowed and eventually stopped my fall.
The slices were clean, so they are healing quickly. All appears to be well enough.
But here’s something interesting I noticed: every time the event replays in my mind, I find myself flinching, trying to glance away from the images and feelings.
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Even looking at a roof produces this phenomenon.
Life is happening, totally fresh, totally new. But my mind is grasping, trying to overlay the past, trying to know what this is.
Take a moment and look with fresh eyes. See this as it is.
How often do we see this as it is?
Most of the time we are occupied with the past. Often in the form of thoughts, names, learnings.
All cluttering up the clear view.
I don’t believe that is a problem. And certainly not one to be solved.
But you can be aware of it. You can be curious about it. You can see the grasping, clinging, clenching, flinching, overlaying.
Seeing that, it is obvious that simultaneous, there is the clear view.
However, there is superficial awareness, which is just enough awareness to give a name to something. I can be just aware enough to call it flinching, for example.
But that superficial awareness only gives the dimmest glimpse of the unalienable clear view.
A greater depth of awareness comes through looking closely.
I look closely by examining with curiosity how I flinch.
Slow it down. Look at every facet. Become intimately familiar.