Ekotic Elaborations

Ekos is my place in space - in my body, in my home, in my world. I can wander perpetually with only a fleeting sense of place and no sense of being in-place, or I can withdraw from the world and stay at home, in my body, separate from the world, with no sense of purpose, promise, or progress. My body is a vehicle that carries my sense of what is divine when I follow my bliss to express my vitality, but as a temple, my body is also a sacred vessel that serves to contain value and quality so as to make it possible for me to know what is valuable and desirable, and what is worthy and worthwhile.

The world is a container for all that I need and desire. The mind and the senses serve as a bridge to this world, and the world serves as a mirror of my every need and desire. In essence, when I give my will to X, and in return, I receive X, then I know that I can only be given what I am willing to receive. When I know what I want, when I know what I want to be, when I know what I want to do, and when I know what I want to give, having and becoming follow in their wake. In between the extremes of Ekos lies a delicate balance of power that forever seeks a stable equilibrium - a balance between soul and spirit.

The body is a vessel of sanctity for soul and a vehicle of divinity for spirit. The bodily urges of soul alert me to my needs and the bodily impulses of spirit announce my desires. The urges of soul would have me satisfy my needs, whereas the impulses of spirit would have me fulfill my desires. Urges would have me settle down, stay put, and keep my place in space. Impulses would have me move forward, onward, and upward to obtain, retain, and sustain a sense of purpose, promise, and progress. Potential conflicts between soul and spirit make it possible for me to know what it is I need and want.

In my next post, I will introduce the extremes of Eros in light of these elaborations.

The Extremes of Ekos

I seek to lay a conceptual foundation, with practical applications, that serves a worthy and desirable life of substance with style that ultimately resolves an ultimate question of purpose. In addressing lesser questions of purpose (e.g., what would I do if I knew I couldn't fail?) in relation to the ultimate question of purpose, I believe it would be instructive to consider both the extremes of Ekos and the extremes of Eros.

First, the extremes of Ekos.

Ekos is about your place in space: you might choose to be a perpetual wanderer, without ever having any sense of place or any sense of being in-place. Or, you might choose to be a reclusive householder, without ever having any sense of progress or any sense of being progressive.

Somewhere in between lies your sacred place and your sacred sense of being in-place.

Of course, it might be fun to be a perpetual wanderer - but only if you know you can return home. And it might be fun to be a reclusive householder - but only if you know you can leave home. Home is common to both extremes of Ekos: this is important to know because, in our encounters with each other and with the objects of our interest, it resides at the heart of what is most worthy and worthwhile.

A home requires a structure that is comprised of three elements: a house (or apartment), a homestead, and a household. The first is physical: in essence, it serves to contain subjects and objects of interest. The second is geographical: in essence, it serves to bridge subjects and objects of interest with other subjects and objects of interest; and the third is social: in essence, it serves to mirror what is more or less worthy and worthwhile.

In my next post, I will elaborate on these notions.

A Question of Purpose

A practical, conceptual foundation that would have you build a desired, desirable life of substance with style is ultimately a question of purpose. One might begin by asking these standard questions: what would I do if I knew I couldn't fail? If I were financially free, where would my interests lie?

More specifically, in terms of desire, what do I want to do? In terms of ability, what can I do? In terms of purpose, what should I do? In terms of need, what must I do? Obviously, such questions as these are best answered when one feels rested and relaxed, refreshed and restored.

Sentence prompts can also help: e.g., the seven things I most want to do in this life are ... the five things I can do most easily are ... the three things that I feel I should do are ... and the one thing I must do is ... These prompts need not be completed in any particular order - only that they be completed.

Allowances in First Person

In addressing structure and purpose in relation to substance and orientation, I feel compelled to begin with these allowances for myself; perhaps these affirmations resonate with your own sense of what you need or desire as you make a life of satisfaction and fulfillment for yourself:

I allow myself ... to live, love, lead ... my life ... on my own terms ... in every way possible ... naturally, effortlessly, sublimely. I allow myself ... to occupy a position ... in a place where ... I can be, have, do, and become ... whatever I will or desire ... naturally, effortlessly, sublimely. I allow myself ... to bring the substance of soul and the orientation of spirit ... into harmony ... with the purpose of my life ... knowing that structure determines behavior and purpose unifies destiny. I allow myself ... to establish the structure of my life through the purpose of my life ... naturally, effortlessly, sublimely.

Ekos Sacred is the realm of encounter where we cultivate quality of soul. This is where we get our substance and sense of meaning. Eros Divine is the realm of experience where we celebrate vitality of spirit. This is where we get our orientation and sense of direction. When we mindfully balance soul and spirit with heart, keeping in mind that the body is a vessel for soul and a vehicle for spirit, the result is twofold: involvement and engagement.

Whatever we do mindfully, we do purposefully. When we cultivate quality of soul through involvement with the subjects and objects of our interest, we feed soul with sacred encounters, and when we celebrate vitality of spirit through engagement with the subjects and objects of our experience, we feed spirit with divine experiences. Encounters with soul give us encounters with mystery. Experiences of spirit give us experiences of mastery.

As we'll see in subsequent posts, the ultimate mystery and ultimate mastery lie at the heart of who and what we are.

On Being and Becoming

If I forget myself in action, could anything that I say or do matter? If I move ahead without hesitation, could anything that I think or feel matter? If I move forward without any purpose in mind, could anything that I gain or keep matter? If I follow my bliss and go with the flow, could anything that I have matter?

Or must I always be aware of what I'm saying, of what I'm doing, of what I'm thinking or feeling, of gaining or keeping, of having or discarding? If I am always and forever in a process of being and becoming, in a process that satisfies my every need and fulfills my every desire, what could possibly matter?

One response might be that no one need can always and forever be satisfied and that no one desire can always and forever be fulfilled. Also, if I satisfy one need, another looms large; if I fulfill one desire, another rises to takes it place. But if I already know that more needs and desires present themselves even as I satisfy more of my needs and fulfill more of my desires, what is to stop me from wisely crafting my very own process for being and becoming? What would stop me from crafting a process of being and becoming that would satisfy any and all needs and fulfill any and all desires, even as they present themselves?

The key to crafting such a process lies in bringing the substance, structure, and orientation of my life into harmony with the centrality of purpose, keeping in mind (at least at the beginning) that harmony between the substance of soul and the orientation of spirit requires a stable and happy marriage between structure and purpose.

Structure determines behavior. Purpose unifies destiny. The time has come to cultivate Ekos Sacred and celebrate Eros Divine.

Nothing Matters: Final Reading

In my first reading of nothing, I affirm that nothing matters, as a complement to the supposition that everything matters, supposing further that there is nothing that does not matter if and when it serves an end, whether that end be a need, a goal, a value, or an interest.

In my second reading of nothing, I point to the ways in which nothing matters: nothing, through its perception in relation to something, alerts us to the presence of need; offers the promise of value; provides a contrast by which to appreciate an object of value; and invites a response to participate in value, and to contribute an object of value.

In my third reading of nothing, in which nothing matters, I suppose that nothing could only matter for two reasons: it is relevant to some purpose and it is significant for some reason. I cite oblivion and enlightenment as two examples of nothing, concluding that both have relevance and significance.

From these readings, I come to the conclusion that nothing is always relative to something, and that the perception of nothing can only ever be made known in relation to something relevant and significant.

Now suppose I forget about myself and move in no particular direction, with no particular intention of having any particular outcome, of being, having, doing, and becoming nothing, where oblivion and enlightenment fuse, and manifest together, in harmony, with no obsession, and without compulsion.

Could such a fusion, in and of and by itself, matter? Let us imagine how we might incorporate such a fusion.

Oblivion is a complete loss of memory, and from such a loss, no action with a purpose is possible. Enlightenment, on the other hand, is a state of mind by which action in response to a purpose can be taken without awareness of any memory that serves this purpose. In either case, nothing is recalled.

If, as a general rule, I move in no particular direction, it might be that I have completely forgotten everything I know about how moving in a particular direction is even relevant or significant to anything I do. And if, as general rule, I have no particular outcome in mind as I take action, it might be that I have released all awareness of any memory that serves any purpose I have. In having no particular intention (not even the intention to move in no particular direction, with no particular intention of having any particular outcome), I forget everything I know about which way to go even as I rely on memory without any awareness of it.

In light of this fusion of oblivion with enlightenment, could anything I have, think, feel, say, or do, matter?

Nothing Matters: Third Reading

Nothing matters, but in what way could nothing matter?

Suppose for a moment that no thing is real and then suppose for a moment that nothing is real.

These two suppositions are distinct: the first (no thing is real) would have us consider that all things are mere patterns of energy, projections of the mind made manifest through the senses of sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell, which are themselves the result of a thing that is both pattern and projection.

The second supposition (nothing is real) would have us consider nothing by having us stop the mind completely, bearing in mind that seeking can be a form of grasping or controlling, which would preclude any further stopping. If we're capable and wise, we might be a mirror and bring the mind to a stop, perhaps with eyes closed, body at rest, in a place saturated with perfect silence; we would neither seek to stop the mind nor would we seek not to stop the mind.

In light of these suppositions, how could nothing matter? Or, how could anything matter? If I move in a certain direction, with a certain intention of having a certain outcome, something matters. And it could only matter in two ways: it is relevant to some purpose and it is significant for some reason.

Nothing matters to those who would avoid the punishment of oblivion for evil deeds committed. At a certain level of personal development, nothing is both relevant to some purpose (being a good person, having faith in a source of goodness, performing good deeds) and significant for some reason (serves as a reminder of what can happen when you stop caring about others, lose faith in a source of goodness, and perform evil deeds).

Nothing matters to those who would welcome the stillness and silence that attends a profound sense of peace in the present moment. At a certain level of personal development, nothing is both relevant to some purpose (allowing silence to surround you, attending to a profound sense of peace, basking in the stillness of the present moment) and significant for some reason (serves as a reminder of what can happen when you make time to be).

At one level of personal development, it is perfectly understandable why one person would resist the notions that nothing matters and that nothing matters, given that nothing is associated so strongly with a dreadful prospect of oblivion. At another level of development, it is also perfectly understandable why another person would at least consider the notions that nothing matters and that nothing matters, given that nothing is associated so strongly with the unspeakable stillness and silence of a profound peace in the present moment. I would invite each of these persons to consider the following:

(1) Nothing is always, always and forever relative to something, which means it could never subsist on its own. The cosmological Big Bang had something within it that allowed it to give birth, immediately or eventually, to the phenomena of space and time, matter and energy, sentience and awareness.

(2) The perception of nothing is always, always and forever made known in relation to something relevant and significant, which means it could never exist without relevance and significance. The intention to manifest an outcome relies on nothing and something to establish relevance and significance.

My suggestion is not this: break your association of nothing with oblivion or enlightenment. My suggestion is this: expand your notion of nothing, relative to something, to include your perception of nothing in relation to your perception of anything relevant and significant.

Nothing Matters: Second Reading

Consider: Nothing matters.

We might ask: in what way does nothing matter?

Nothing is your empty screen, your blank canvas, your uncarved block, your period of silence, your absence of touch, taste, or smell, your respite from activity, your naked body, your bare wall, your unspeakable peace in the stillness of the present moment.

Nothing matters.

Granted, and to be sure, the perception of nothing always, always and forever requires something, but nothing matters because it offers promise, the promise of something with value, of something sacred, of something unique and irreplaceable.

Nothing provides a backdrop, a means of contrast by which to appreciate that special something. I might fill a wall in my home with pictures, but if I hang but one picture, that picture acquires more relevance and significance for having been placed alone in the midst of nothing.

Nothing invites a response. When I see an empty computer screen, I want to write. When I see a blank canvas, I want to paint. When I see an uncarved block, I want to sculpt. When I do nothing for too long, I want to act. Nothing invites participation and contribution.

Nothing alerts us to need and purpose. When I've had nothing to eat for too long, I get hungry. When I've had nothing to say or do for too long, I get restless. If, in the midst of activity, I've had nothing meaningful to contribute, I wonder: what is the point of this?

Nothing offers promise. Nothing provides contrast. Nothing invites participation and contribution. Nothing alerts us to need and purpose.

What could be more important than nothing?

Nothing matters, but in what way does nothing matter?

Nothing Matters: First Reading

Nothing matters.

Three readings: (1) nothing matters; (2) nothing matters; and (3) nothing matters.

Here I am now: a body, with two hands with which to type these words; a mind, to witness two hands typing these words; a heart, to guide body and mind in the typing of these words; soul, with body, mind, and heart, to encounter, with heartfelt purpose, from sacred depths, the words I type; and spirit, with body, mind, heart, and soul, to experience, with presence and heart from heights divine, the typing of these words.

Nothing matters. This is pure negation of all that matters, a complement to the notion that everything matters.

Everything matters. This is a pure affirmation of all that matters, a complement to the notion that nothing matters.

But if I say, ultimately, nothing matters, what is to stop me from saying, ultimately, everything matters?

Nothing.

Ultimately, everything matters. But is it true?

Does manure matter? It does when it's used to grow things. Do pain and suffering matter? They do when they alert us to problems. Do silly jokes matter? They do when they dissolve tension. Do nonsense words matter? They do when they make a point.

Is there anything that does not matter?

Think of it this way: if I have a purpose, an objective, a goal, a value, an interest, a need, a desired outcome, or a desired result, then obviously, whoever or whatever can serve it, matters. Less obviously, I don't, or I can't, or I won't always know who or what does, can, or will serve one of my ends.

It might appear to me that someone or something cannot or will not serve one of my ends.

Scratch the surface, though, and I might find otherwise.

Letting Go, Letting Be

Knowing that life is a [....], my purpose in life is to ...

When I did this exercise, I came up with three responses, all of which resonate deeply with three different aspects of me: Life is a beach; Life is a woman; and Life is a process. Knowing that life is a beach, my purpose in life is to ... live my life to the fullest. Knowing that life is a woman, my purpose in life is to ... love her with all my heart. Knowing that life is a process, my purpose in life is to ... go with the flow and be a part of this wondrous process.

In less than two minutes, the heart of my soul, being deeply feminine, knew exactly what she wanted from this exercise.

Just before I did this exercise, I received a heart-warming newsletter from a woman accomplished in the visual and healing arts. She had returned from the Peruvian Amazon, where she had spent a month in the wilds with a group of shamans. She remarked: "feeling the grace of the river, the exquisite green of the forest, the warmth of the air, combined with the simplicity and heartfelt presence of the shamans, I decided to pay more attention to my lifestyle, to relax and enjoy more, each and every moment, letting the flow of the river, the Divine breath, to guide and inspire me in each moment and situation."

She went on to say that healing (physical, emotional, spiritual) occurs with a relaxed attitude from a place of humility, faith, surrender, and playfulness. She added: letting go and letting Divine Grace emerge from within is our only task and destiny. In essence, I would agree with her with all my heart and soul. I would, however, qualify her statement somewhat, phrasing it as follows: "letting go is our most important task; letting be is our ultimate destiny."

All that we encounter, and contrive to encounter, contains relevance for soul; all that we experience, and contrive to experience, carries significance for spirit. Paradoxically, however, letting go requires hanging on; letting be requires clapping hands.