Monday, January 28, 2013

Into The Essence

It comes as it has always come. It was always there, abiding, it says, worldlessly.  This great ball of a thing. But not a ball.  I just can't explain it with words.  Not to do it justice.  But it comes each time, each time it is the same, I am just in a different place.  A visitor with a thousand different faces, waiting patiently, never telling me that I am not seeing it right, merely waiting in a place that if it isn't perfect, I sense is so close to perfect.  But then, I am the traveller who sees the visitor in a thousand different faces and places and moments.

It rises up all around me.  I have been seeking it and running from it all at once.  Until I removed the last straw and felt it bouyantly rise up to touch the surface of my awareness in a way I had not known, at least not in this life.  But I had glimpsed it. My initiation into the first of its mysteries as an adult happened on a dirty orange shag carpet in a friends house one Saturday night as I breathed the freedom of being away from the clamor of my college dorm and suddenly felt like something was about to happen.  Not just visited, but taken back through time to a touchstone to what would come forward through time into my present, a confounding "gift" from a past life wherein the future was being forecast, described, a time when something of some importance would take shape.  This experience, more a warping into time than just a past life memory, would change my life forever and put me solidly on a path that I was most often afraid to dare walk.  And here you thought I would say it changed my life and I lived happily ever after.  Nope.  I was haunted by it, confused by what it was seeming to say or suggest.  I thought I needed to parse out itse details as if some great message would be revealed to me in this future life which is being lived now.  Curiously, it was only in letting go of that that I discovered the most.  I had been holding its secrets out in front of myself telling myself there was no way I would ever understand it.  And in so doing, it dutifully became that.  There was no way anyone would believe my story of a past life that foretold of the future I am living in the present.  But that was just silly because what I didn't realize or trust was that it could be anything I wanted it to be in my day to day journey. 

It curls up next to me it seems, a radiant sense of something I have known as familiar, a mist with a voice, but it is not misty.  It is everything.  How can it be everything I wonder, and it just shrugs and says "You will just have to find out what I am by doing what you must."  But what is it I must do?  "Doing what you must is not like a commandment.  Only when you know that it is not a must that you realize that yes, it is  most certainly a seems one way while being a different way.  The same word, but a very different meaning.  A completely different perspective."  I look at the Visitor who has had so many different faces and smile because it only seems a visitor. I know it is who I am, have always been.  Will always be.  I just have to say visitor because how else can I even describe it except to speak and in speaking, lose the sense of an experience which has unfolded over time?

Thoughts pass without words wrapped around them.  All of this takes no time.  It is how it is, how it has always been.  My writing is itself a pale shadow of what it is, and I suppose that is at it should be.  It speaks in me as I know this visitor Is me.  Has always been me.  I know the lesson has been in no longer helping anyone, no longer doing anything, for this task is so much more simpler.  It has always been this way.  We all complicate it so much, and we forget to simply Be.  So its Presence grows steadily and I see there is all the time in the world.  How can there be love in the world when one does not yet know the greatest love within?  How can one know how to bear light when they seek it outside of themselves?  It is so silly.  Don't try to make sense out of it, for the madness of life has been this.  One giant ball of this, rolling down through time, and defining part of our journey.  And even as I say this to myself, there Is no time.  All are like beads upon a necklace, a necessary means to an end, but each life lies curled like prayers wound so tightly that they only seem to have a beginning and an end.  "The truth is there is no real beginning and no real end.....and when you know this and feel it in your body, the very presence of that truth shakes you out of this shell of conception.  Here, you are free to create and do what is next for you to do."

So I thought life was to be fashioned, made, ordered, and in some grace-filled way, controlled by a gentle guiding hand.  But no, this is not so.  What is mine will come as needed and it is I who must stop trying to control and simply participate in what the higher order is bringing down.  All of this has been one effort at anchoring the higher with what is Now.  Just that.  Sitting here, with this Visitor, now shifting and moving in my presence, showing me that there is more yet to realize.  Just take what the world gives and let that be a lesson, the substance of your prayers.  I look at all the efforts, and it was all pushing a current that had its own measured pace, its own amazing way of reinventing the world.  I was perhaps arrogant thinking I could change it.  It would change me if I would but listen so clearly to it, and in so doing, I would find my greatest rewards.  And still, time seems to have a hold, does it not?  Follow the silly illusion, for it is here as a creation itself, its own lessons to be gleaned, its own seeds to grow and bear new fruit.  "Stop trying to make sense of it and embrace it.  It is much too big for your brain to make any sense will feel it much better and in each moment the seed of its greater becoming will be present to you, expanding outward in every direction."

So now things take a turn and events accelerate.  I have no idea what will happen next except that they will conform as if by some magic to what must be just now, and life will bloom like the flower it has always been, the petals of me being this seeming visitor, now no longer separate but part of a great mystery that I am now happy to let be a mystery.....for it is in seeking to channel it and make it into something that its great potential is somehow limited, perhaps lost in a sense.  It is like grasping water.  The moment that you do, you lose most of what it was to begin with.  SO now, with hands open, my hand glides through the waters of this life and I hold onto nothing, and everything at once.  Opportunities flood in effortlessly, perfect for the moment, one iteration, one creation emerging to offer nothing on its own save a canvass upon which to create and filled with boundless possibility.  It is I who realizes that the potential is limitless and what a grand thing this is.  I am hurled back through the tunnel of time, less a tunnel as a turning in the moment where all moments are connected to every other moment that has or will be.  The air sparkles with possibility and I do not try so hard.  I do not lean in so hard.  This is simple and I simply need only get what can be received in the moment.  "Through what you do, you will do nothing and everything.  In learning the final lesson of letting people be who they are, you will finally be free to be who you are.  DOn't expect to know what that means, for its potential is infinite.  You are here to realize what this is when you are ready and you will drink of its fountainhead in the same fashion in which you came and letting the seeming illusion of time and linearity explode your notions of what you are and what the world is."

The ghost of the past is felt as sadness, hurt, abandonment and rage.  And yet, it says, it can all be released with a simple recognition of it through whatever method you feel is right for the time.  Even as I begin a practice of body work, of movement I have not felt moved to use, something is happening, and I feel more keenly some ghost now no longer feeling as though it is at home in the deeper layers.  Deep roots sinking down, no longer nourished, something in me moves and turns, entirely uncertain of the consequences or outcomes, but happy to be led and happy to shake things to their core.  The thunder rolls within me as I feel what it was that this old self from another time has to teach me.  It was what never matched anyone, was not understood because it was always buried in karma.  It sought to reach the surface of awareness and life but could not as long as these old ghosts keep the waters roiling with dust and dirt.  I feel the thunder again and again as I embrace the Lightening and stop trying to understand what it all means. 

I go back and find photos of my people from that past time.  Their look is the same as me.  They were called "Grizzlies" because of how fierce they were.  But this was itself not understood.  In them was a flow of energy so strong that it rattled the cage of complacency.  They slept nearly out in the open in bark huts and were with nature in ways that make you a very different kind of human.  It isn't that I want to go back, but that I know something I need to reclaim for this life, a sliver of something that this embodied, for the trip forward.  A fearlessness, a boldness, a power rippling beneath the surface that was perhaps only glimpsed for what it was, just like I have only been glimpsing even now.  It isn't a race, it isn't a destination. This winds upwards into the infinite.  If you think and order your life in terms of beginnings and endings, you will have a very nicely laid out path marked with signs that say "Here I awoke" and another "Her I awoke a little more" and "More."  But nowhere do the signs say "Heaven 5 miles up ahead."  No, it just does not work like that because it was always within, and this is what this very patient Visitor is now saying with its eyes and its heart, and all that it is.  It knows that I am already what it is, I just need to realize it here in this place this time as it has been done down through what we call time.  All of it lies within our reach, all of the oceans flow through our fingers and there is nothing to do but what we feel most immediately will fulfill us. There is no more grasping, no more ordering, but a hand that lets itself feel the currents as the current fills me with one word "remember..." Always, the power that is this Visitor, will govern and guide based on whatever choices are made.  This is karma and the Law of attraction.  Any road that is seen as an irrevocable choice will be that, like clay fashioned into a pitcher even though it could have become a circle of friends dancing or a butterfly with outstretched wings, or a million other things.  Beyond what we think is our limit is what is limitless. 

Yes there is desire and hope and dream.  But now the dream lives in front of me instead of in my head or imagination.  It comes to live more vividly as I begin, just beginning, to learn about this new creature that has been around me even though I was but dimply aware.  I knew with my head, now I know with all of me what it is to me. Desire, freed from the dross of what was in the past, emerges as the thing it always was, but was not fully understood.  Camoflaged in a sense.  Layer by layer, spiral course by spiral course, the wheel comes full turn in each nanosecond, but also on larger scales that may be tied to stars and planets and rivers and earths.

It is a mistake to make of this work.  It is in error that we must somehow become something.  We need only remember, and sometimes it take time, but sometimes, it takes listening to the one thing that you have denied the longest.  This is the thing that we each miss the most.  Until we reach that, it is like living a half life, and until that comes, discontent and all troubled things do this way pass.  Even the hardest life, the most difficult past is redeemed by this realization which is itself what we are.  And you might think perhaps there is something to do to get to that place, but if you trust in this thing to get you there, you will be closer to that Visitor than you have been in a long time.  If you can trust that, then its voice will speak to you in dream as your world cracks open and worlds of trouble spill out as what you thought were the hidden lands of your own secret world reveal that in truth, it was a simple interface to what you always were.  We call all of this illusion, but it is in truth a creation, and in thinking this way, we free ourselves to create in entirely new ways.  We just have to realize that we can.  Forgiving it seems to be the key to allowing it to be what it was while no longer being what you are.  By simply holding its precious gift, I learn that everyone just has to be who they are even if I am something different.  And in so being, we are each freed to do just what it is we most greatly seek deep down. 

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