Letting Eternity In
Leaning into the bigger picture - a lifeline in difficult times
Standing in a prominent spot on my desk is a small woodblock painting from story artist Brian Andreas. These days, its question is ever-present with me:
what is the place
in you this day
where you open
& let eternity in?—Brian Andreas
The question reminds me that access to eternity—infinite time and space where all that has ever been, is now, and will ever be, co-exists—lives within me and within all of us. Leaning into that vast, infinite aspect of reality has become a lifeline for me in these tumultuous times. It’s become a constant reminder that we have lived through personal, social, and political upheaval and conflict many times over the course of history, and this is not likely to be the last. Where we are right now is just where we are right now. It’s up to us how we choose to be with it and what we will create from it.
In the last week, I’ve been awake most nights for an hour or longer between 2:00 and 5:00 am. It’s a time of the night I’ve become very familiar with in recent years. The deep silence, the sounds of the house creaking and the wind rustling through the trees outside, the soft light of the streetlamp as it illuminates my bedroom just enough to sense the shapes of things and notice shadows on the ceiling—I know them all well.
Yet this week, lying still in that liminal space between asleep and awake, between dark and light, and observing with all my inner and outer senses, I became aware of a shift that’s been happening within me since experiencing a stroke in January. Or, as Ram Dass used to say after his stroke, since I was “stroked.” The shift started, in fact, within the first couple of hours after “being stroked,” and continued to unfold further during my two days and nights in the hospital. And it’s continued in the weeks since.
In my first Substack post after the stroke, I wondered if the stroke had cleared my mind so that “I could be found by something I didn’t expect.” I described “accepting each moment as it came and giving it back my full presence.” And I shared author Avis Crowe’s words:
Help me to be less fearful of the measure of time, and
more fully alive in the time that simply is. Help me to live
time, not just to simply use it; to breathe it in, and return it in
acts of love and presence.—Avis Crowe
My closing sentence: “I’m open to give and take with time, and to letting my physical body and my presence show me what is waiting for me in the blessed emptiness of the eternal present.”
Since I was a child, I have sought out times to be silent—to reflect, dream, wonder, and be with myself. So, to be in the silence feels like home. Yet this week, lying in that middle-of-the-night liminal stillness, I realized that what has been opening within me since the stroke is a sense of coming home to that “eternal present.” I’ve been sensing, even if just a bit more, what it might mean to inhabit eternity in the present moment. And to recognize that inhabitation as a pathway towards embracing the essence of who we are beyond time. To rest in the timeless field of the eternal present beyond the linear constraints of past, present, and future—to rest in an awareness where eternity is not something far away or too big a concept to grasp, but rather is a space and time we are living within every day.
Modern-day mystic and Episcopal priest Cynthia Bourgeault wrote:
Wisdom isn’t knowing more,
it’s knowing with more of you.—Cynthia Bourgeault
Her words inspire me to go a step further, starting with her words and adding my own:
Wisdom isn’t knowing more,
it’s knowing with more of you
as you increasingly expand your
awareness
and more and more
inhabit the vast, timeless
field of the eternal present.
Lying awake night after night in that liminal stillness, I’ve discovered subtle ways that I’m still pushing against life in these fraught times rather than partnering with it. So, I’ve been practicing allowing myself to be held in that timeless field of the eternal present, listening to and partnering with “what is,” and living into whatever the moment is asking of me. I recognize my deepening desire to live in that eternal present—to make it my home base, to inhabit it more fully, to become more intimate with the eternal nature of being.
Perhaps this will be the guiding theme of my next decade. It’s too early to tell—my recent experiences are still very fresh. Yet I find myself seeking even more time in the quiet—more time to just be, to write, to keep learning, and to engage in rich and meaning-full exploration with others who also yearn to live, love, and explore the essence of life deeply and fully. Especially in relationship to the current social, political, and spiritual trends.
I recognize that living into the eternal present requires listening deeply on all levels—to each other, to the messages from life all around us, to the natural world, to the silence. It means being present to all of life as it unfolds, not just with our rational or intellectual minds, but with the whole of our being, with all of our inner and outer senses. And not only being present with what we like or want, but with all that life brings—every moment, every experience—paying attention for what it is trying to show us. The “eternal present” is not a destination; it’s a state of presence found in our breath, in the space between our thoughts, and in the deep and quiet knowing that is waiting for us beneath the noise of everyday life.
Deep in the heart of my being, I recognize that I’m being asked to surrender deeper than ever before to that vast field of the eternal present—surrender not as giving up, but opening to the unfolding of life experience, and responding from a sense of trust that I am held by a Greater Presence than perhaps I will ever fully comprehend. In these unsettled times, I’m learning once again that when I live in that openness and trust, I feel less resistance within me to a world I don’t want, and I can begin to inhabit more and more the world I feel called to help co-create.
As I take all of this in, I’m wondering if this just might be the essence of Transformational Presence—living as a conscious and intentional participant in the constant unfolding of the eternal present. And acknowledging that that constant and eternal unfolding does not happen far away or separate from us; it’s the very fabric of our being.
Invitations
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“living as a conscious and intentional participant in the constant unfolding of the eternal present. And acknowledging that that constant and eternal unfolding does not happen far away or separate from us; it’s the very fabric of our being.” … you have such a wonderful way of giving words to the unspeakable, the mystery and the gift of life… thank you Alan for touching my soul… 🙏
I'm struck by the perfect and almost necessary timing of your new expansiveness, Alan, as the world seems to shift on its axis and there's so much fear in the air – what you describe is, for me, the only path right now. Your post reminds me of the Rumi poem: "Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing/ There is a field. I'll meet you there…"