We are all God seeds. Cells in the infinite body of consciousness. Not separate and apart from that which we are but intimately one with all life everywhere. In the dream of separation we float in the great waters of truth but imagine a ME separate and apart, longing for more, longing for other, longing to wake up, longing for home. Not knowing, in all our reaching and contriving, controling and predicting, that the me so intent on waking, never wakes up. It is awakened from. Not in some violent transcendence of self, but in the same innocent, eye (I) open, waking from sleep.
When everything looks bleak and the darkness cramps against the cold, it takes courage to simply look out from imagined isolation toward the wide horizon of beauty available in every moment. It takes courage to lean into the sea of life and trust the tide. When weary limbs no longer support us, it takes courage to trust our inner buoyancy and float. It takes courage, in the face of darkness, to remember the light and sit in all our apparent blindness and listen, silently, to the still, small whisper within. It takes courage, in that dark hour, when nothing else remains. Eyes closed. Eyes opened. A glimpse, a memory, a fleeting vision of a light so bright it blurs the borders of things seen and things perceived into a comprehensive wholeness of being. It takes courage.
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