Anxiety ends when I recognize my relationship to time and experience.
My great task is to be myself. Freedom then is not only the aim but the prerequisite. Everything happens in time so this is possible. Every paradox shall be resolved in time. Last year is a blank notebook I can write in now. It wieghs nothing at all--a feather must weigh in more heavily than the past. The future is also a blank notebook. If it were not always so I would not dare anything. Night cleans and reassembles everything for the next day.
"The past is open to revision because memory is a function of present intention." (Sam Keen and Anne Valley-Fox)
It used to depress me that I would be in what I'd describe as a state of grace but then slip out of it and back into conditioned reactions. It is reassuring to know that the same moment is still there for me. The state of detachment is located in space and time--as something experienced in a moment--and is yet always available to me as a potential. Lately I have been returning to the sensation of being in love as a meditation. I realize I do not need to be in love with anyone in particular to experience this--it is part of me. So there is no need to worry about losing someone whose presence inspires this feeling. Nothing is ever lost that is truly valuable. Beauty is connected to a state of mind as well, anything can be deeply appreciated. Keats was right when he wrote "A thing of beauty is a joy forever" because the ability to experience that joy in beauty increases over time.
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If when you die your whole life flashes before you, then your whole life is never more or less than that moment, the moment of your death. This is maybe the ultimate reality that we fear: "Time will be no more." There is neither past nor future, only now. Death and the infinite; beauty and freedom from all limits and fear is grace. Hell is measured out in increments, in time. It's the realm of guilt about the past and fear of the future. A place in our minds that is all about self-punishment (and mindless self agrandisement, it all amounts to the same). Nightmares lacking substance.
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