These past weeks I have neglected seeing and listening. I have neglected being in presence.
My mind has been constantly occupied, business issues, decisions, the garden project that now feels heavy instead of alive. Everything has become a chain of problems to solve, leaving no space to simply sit, to look at the trees, to watch the light shift over the hills.
No time for meditation, no time for yoga. Forgetting myself, focusing on all the wrong things, judgments, opinions, worries, and above all, fears.
I listened to a Kabbalah podcast last night, about how this is a powerful week astrologically, as we are moving into the energy of the Scorpio.
It explained the connections between the three water signs: Scorpio, Pisces, and Cancer.
Cancer, the right column of water, represents the force of sharing and nurturing, the flow of generosity and care.
Scorpio, the left column, embodies judgment, boundaries, and intensity. It’s a controlling energy, born from scarcity, afraid to lose, afraid not to be in control.
And then there is me.... the Pisces, which represents the central column of water, the balance between the two. It carries the gifts of empathy and maturity, yet also the shadows of fear and self-doubt.
It resonated. And now that we have entered Scorpio season, which also happens to be my moon sign, I am feeling its depth, its pull into shadow.
But I also know that it is not so difficult to return to the seeing and listening that Krishnamurti speaks of: to step out of the crowded mind, out of the dulling repetition of experience and knowledge.
Right now, I am sitting on the balcony of my house in Porto Rafti, a cup of coffee beside me and Krishnamurti’s Diaries open on my lap, a book I might never tire of. As I read his words about seeing and listening, I realise how much I have forgotten both.
Krishnamurti often said that "the recognition of confusion is the beginning of clarity." And so, by noticing my absence, I am already returning. That this moment of realising that I have forgotten to see, is already the beginning of seeing again.
The morning is slightly overcast, the sky a palette of greys, shifting softly with the breeze. It is dead quiet, except for a faint birdsong somewhere in the valley and the occasional tap of a hammer, distant, as if someone were mending the silence itself.
The air is mild, still touched by the night’s coolness. Over the Evia shores, bulging clouds hang heavy and full, their bellies brightening as the sun begins to press through. Its light moves cautiously, touching the pines first, then the palms and gumtrees scattered down the hill.
And below, the sea lies grey and still, a mirror without reflection, only the quiet pulse of existence itself.
For a long while I just sit, doing nothing but watching, listening. I can feel the noise within begin to settle, the anxious currents of thought, the tightness of unfinished business, the constant whisper of shoulds and musts.
They drift, like clouds losing form. There is seeing again, not through the eyes of memory, not through the filters of yesterday’s mind, but simply seeing.
And in that seeing, the heart remembers itself.
In this quiet return, I realise that seeing and listening are not practices to be achieved, but the natural state that appears when all striving stops. Presence asks for nothing... it simply is.
The fears, the judgments, the endless doing, they are only waves rising and falling on the surface. Beneath them, the sea remains still. And it is from that stillness that life begins again, not as ambition or achievement, but as tenderness, awareness, and truth.
My mind has been constantly occupied, business issues, decisions, the garden project that now feels heavy instead of alive. Everything has become a chain of problems to solve, leaving no space to simply sit, to look at the trees, to watch the light shift over the hills.
No time for meditation, no time for yoga. Forgetting myself, focusing on all the wrong things, judgments, opinions, worries, and above all, fears.
I listened to a Kabbalah podcast last night, about how this is a powerful week astrologically, as we are moving into the energy of the Scorpio.
It explained the connections between the three water signs: Scorpio, Pisces, and Cancer.
Cancer, the right column of water, represents the force of sharing and nurturing, the flow of generosity and care.
Scorpio, the left column, embodies judgment, boundaries, and intensity. It’s a controlling energy, born from scarcity, afraid to lose, afraid not to be in control.
And then there is me.... the Pisces, which represents the central column of water, the balance between the two. It carries the gifts of empathy and maturity, yet also the shadows of fear and self-doubt.
It resonated. And now that we have entered Scorpio season, which also happens to be my moon sign, I am feeling its depth, its pull into shadow.
But I also know that it is not so difficult to return to the seeing and listening that Krishnamurti speaks of: to step out of the crowded mind, out of the dulling repetition of experience and knowledge.
Right now, I am sitting on the balcony of my house in Porto Rafti, a cup of coffee beside me and Krishnamurti’s Diaries open on my lap, a book I might never tire of. As I read his words about seeing and listening, I realise how much I have forgotten both.
Krishnamurti often said that "the recognition of confusion is the beginning of clarity." And so, by noticing my absence, I am already returning. That this moment of realising that I have forgotten to see, is already the beginning of seeing again.
The morning is slightly overcast, the sky a palette of greys, shifting softly with the breeze. It is dead quiet, except for a faint birdsong somewhere in the valley and the occasional tap of a hammer, distant, as if someone were mending the silence itself.
The air is mild, still touched by the night’s coolness. Over the Evia shores, bulging clouds hang heavy and full, their bellies brightening as the sun begins to press through. Its light moves cautiously, touching the pines first, then the palms and gumtrees scattered down the hill.
And below, the sea lies grey and still, a mirror without reflection, only the quiet pulse of existence itself.
For a long while I just sit, doing nothing but watching, listening. I can feel the noise within begin to settle, the anxious currents of thought, the tightness of unfinished business, the constant whisper of shoulds and musts.
They drift, like clouds losing form. There is seeing again, not through the eyes of memory, not through the filters of yesterday’s mind, but simply seeing.
And in that seeing, the heart remembers itself.
In this quiet return, I realise that seeing and listening are not practices to be achieved, but the natural state that appears when all striving stops. Presence asks for nothing... it simply is.
The fears, the judgments, the endless doing, they are only waves rising and falling on the surface. Beneath them, the sea remains still. And it is from that stillness that life begins again, not as ambition or achievement, but as tenderness, awareness, and truth.
