The Ten Commandments of the Church of the Ever-Changing Moment
… or: The Ten Petals of Surrender
Thou shalt not cling. All that arises will pass. All that passes was never yours. Grip nothing—not thought, not form, not self.
Thou shalt listen before naming. Let the world speak in its own tongue before you answer with labels. To name too soon is to exile wonder.
Thou shalt honor the breath. It is the first sacrament, the invisible tide that connects you to what has no edge.
Thou shalt bow to what is. Not in resignation, but in reverence. Even this—especially this—is the holy unfolding.
Thou shalt make no idol of permanence. The divine does not sit still. It dances, breaks, flows, and becomes.
Thou shalt return to the present as often as forgetting occurs. There is no shame in wandering. Only forgetfulness of return.
Thou shalt practice dissolution. Melt your name in silence. Let identity be as mist touched by morning.
Thou shalt witness without interruption. Let life speak. Do not cut across it with opinion. Be the mirror that adds no distortion.
Thou shalt serve no story above presence. Even your sacred myths must be laid down at the altar of this moment.
Thou shalt remember: there is no thou. The final gate opens when the gatekeeper forgets their post. The commandment vanishes. Only Being remains.
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