author of the oarsman
The Odds
April 8, 2016

What a gift of the Universe that you, as consciousness, were deposited on this planet, amongst the countless planets we are aware of without anyone, to be surrounded by the riots of brown and green that make up life.

What are the odds, what had to happen over billions of years, from single-cells to ancestral organisms, for you to have a body as it is in this moment, to have two arms that could move as you ask them to do?

What are the odds of this present moment, full of things you love and hate, of eyes that can see the shifting light, of ears that can hear the symphony of birdsong and car horns?

Are you appreciative of these odds? Do you wake up with your warm feet thanking their touch to the cold wooden floor? Certainly the floor, with the energy of the trees it came from, and the dirt they grew in, of the craftsmen and machinery which milled it, is thankful to have trickled through the odds and met your feet.

Are you appreciative that there is such a thing as breathing, and that when you take in air, as consciousness in a body, you are breathing the same breaths that God exhales?

Are you appreciative that this moment contains the good and bad, the things you identity with and believe you are in control of, and the things you are not? Are you appreciative that God shouts to you always that this is what totality is about, that the song of this moment is bigger than you, that every thought you wish would not return, comes up to play and dance just for you, in that body, on this planet, in this Universe.

Are you aching with appreciation of the odds, that this moment is all that you are… and that it is beautifully complete.