You are up early with the Mockingbird, who has gone to work in the Live Oak tree that hangs over your house. He is singing his heart out while down the street, a dog argument is happening with yippy little dogs, and then some bigger dogs joining in, followed by people shouting at the dogs to be quiet. At the same time, inwardly, ghost-like remnants of dreams and thoughts about the coming day are filtering through the mind. You notice how the Mockingbird, the barking dogs, the dreams, and thoughts are all free to come and go in what can only be described as an empty space, which is alive and aware of everything but unattached to anything. It may sound bizarre, but this morning, you are that space. There is truly nothing outside of you. It is extraordinary and completely ordinary at the same time. At this moment, you can say, without hesitation, that this mystery is, in Zen terms, ‘finding your face before you were born’.
The dogs are at it again. There is the sound of a passing car, the breathing and heartbeat, and as you rise to get dressed and reenter the world of 10,000 things, it is not you but emptiness buttoning your shirt and tying your shoes. An upwelling of gratitude comes from nowhere, for nothing in particular except maybe for the gift of just being.