It's strange not to have to think anymore, not have to figure anything out. It's quiet in here -- nothing to know -- nothing to hang my hat on - no need to have a hat.
Where is this coming from, nothing and nowhere. Who is writing this? No one. Why? Because I'm not responsible. Couldn't be responsible. When you know the truth that you are not in charge, who's gonna worry?
There is silence. It's not a forced silence. Thinking can come, but mostly it is gone. There is thinking, but it's not mine. It likes to think on abstract subjects, but mostly, it's given up. There is no one it will benefit, certainly not me.
So, there is the house to care for. There are still the problems of the character who appears in this body, who still is not perfect. But no one cares. The imperfection is irrelevant. God is, and God knows what's going on. He's in charge. I watch the river flow.
The body enjoys living, and will continue to do so. It has its pains, its aches, but also its joys. The apparent personality still causes problems for itself. But they are at some distance. Not felt as directly as before.
Mostly there is peace. When the mind gets caught up in a thought, off I go. But at least there is a pause. The pause comes when awakeness returns. Then there is a letting go of the pursuit -- a letting go of what seemed important. Then there is stepping back and going, "Ah, don't really need to worry.
With this silence one gives up on problems. But there is more. One also gives up on dreams, on hopes, on saving the world. The world is as it is. Its design is greater than me. Only an ego would get pulled into saving the world. As Jesus said, "The poor will always be with us." Or, "Let the dead bury the dead."
There is no where to go. No one to turn to. Only this. Only now. Only forevermore. And it's O.K.