Earthquakes and the Montana Sky

An earthquake just hit here at the beach in Los Angeles.  I was writing about clarity when it hit  - realizing what should have been obvious - that it's okay, preferable even, to approach what is happening from an angle of joy, to actually enjoy all of it.  I had just written those words, and the floor under the sofa where I sat rolled.

I've learned to love earthquakes.  There was one particular one that rattled things up a few years ago when I was camping in Montana; it was fun.  Now, I love it when the earth shakes and stuff gets spontaneously rattled.  There's an inner truth that becomes obvious in the shaking, a truth that's also reflected in the vast Montana night sky with its myriad, countless stars that are really planets, that are really other lifetimes, other memories of other moments, other aspects of self that miraculously appeared when we appeared.

The we that is the I that contains the all reveals itself, and we can see ourselves as conscious beings in a spiritual universe full of infinite possibilities.  It's random, it's impermanent, but it's also comforting and real at the same time.  Anything can happen when we go into that open space where it is silent but also dramatically alive.  That is the miracle - that we are alive, alive, alive forever in this one instant.