Vis-à-vis Spirtual Container

I've found that spirituality lies in the cracks of reality that dare to glimmer only as you glance away -- the empty drawers and broken hinges of everyday-ness that flicker into consciousness long after they were glimpsed. It's the question, "Was that...?"

There's a unique perspective to be taken in these moments of silent noticing. It's one of intention - past or future - had by someone, some-when, but probably not by you. As humans, we're exceptional at detecting other humans. As humans, we're unmatched pattern-finders. Mostly, we only notice this about ourselves when it causes us problems. Otherwise, we're content to play "gotcha" with the universe; constantly calling out reality in a way that feels intuitively sense-making. My spirituality, though, lies in the cessation of the game. It's in the open-ended, spiraling unsurety of recognizing that I don't truly understand most of what has gone on in my life. There's a moment I read about a journalist who had a near-death experience. As her heart struggled to beat and her breath slowed to a raspy wheeze, she realized that dying was like being pushed into a pool. You don't think, you calibrate and your body swims. We're all calibrating, always. Once she realized that dying was something she simply could not control, she let go and saw the world for what it was -- there. Just... there. Not something imposing its will. Not a wailing maelstrom of chaos. Just an open question asked with grace and a knowing smile.

"Was that...?"

And whether it was what you thought or not, and whether there's anyone there to ask or be asked behind the eyes that are noticing, or even that we should assume that there is a you noticing -- the truth is that you are something that can ask in a world that just simply is. The trick is remembering that the answers to life's great questions glimmer in the cracks of the moments you realize you're still around to ask them.