Talent

It is the world that is enlightened and we who are intermittent.

Like radios, we struggle through our static to receive wavelengths that are always there, and, being human, we are unable to sustain the clarity necessary to apprehend the magic inherent in everything. So we vacillate from extraordinary to the ordinary, time, and time again, and most of us blame the world.

It is not surprising, then, that though we feel intermittently gifted, our gifts are ever-present. For if enlightenment stems from a clarity of being, then talent is no more than a clarity of doing, an embodied moment we’re spirit and hand are one. The chief obstacle to talent, then, is a lapse in being. It is not that people have no talent, but that we like the clarity to uncover what it is and how it works.

Talent, it seems, is energy waiting to be released through an honest involvement with life. But so many of us check whether we have power with the main the main switch off – the switch being risk, curiosity, passion, and love.

With this in mind, happiness can simply be described as the satisfaction we feel when we are in ultimate accord, however, briefly, in being and doing. In those unified moments, our purpose is life in our talent is living. It is in this most immediate detail, be it drying the dishes or raking the leaves or washing the baby’s hair.

So when I can’t find my purpose, I beg myself to sit in a field in the sun, watching ants in hopes that I will meet my clarity. When I am convinced I have no gifts at all, I implore myself to search for the switch, to try something out of view, to gamble on what is remotely calling. When I lapse between comets, I try to watch fish swim and hear birds glide, while I trudge out of sync. And in a tremor of faith, I know if I don’t try it all, it will all return as surely and swiftly as light fills a whole.