Saturday, May 30, 2015


I don't know much about life after death but I may believe in life after life.
what do you see when you look at yourself? do you know that person well? can you look them in the eyes? who looks back?
I used to turn myself around and around, in front of a mirror, trying to understand.
My mother hinted that I may be vain....a mortal sin. What I could not explain to her, in my child's voice, was my curiosity as to who I was. This shell that I inhabit must be very different from the last. Who grows up thinking that they have been placed inside the wrong body? Who physically feels their eyes becoming windows....not made of glass but a set fashioned from thin sheets of Muscovite; ancient and milky?
A friend and I have shared the same dreams. Not a hypothetical dream for the future or the ephemeral dream to someday be a writer (although we do dream that dream together)  but the dreams of the unconscious soul. Dreams of lilacs blossoms blowing on the breeze, dreams of dead friends, dreams of the divine. He once explained to me that he can no longer meditate because he is afraid of what he will find. He has found the way....the tunnel that leads to light. He found the way and the one on the other side shot out of the darkness and delivered a hard right hooked punch to his gut. He will not meditate now; the pain was too real.
Many of us have found this place and are afraid to enter. We are not taught to know what to do when we arrive and so we flee. But we are drawn here, over and over, to stand at the gate and to let the wind howl past. The buzzing and crackle and the alignment of neural energy....if you have been here you may know how startling this discovery can be.
I do not believe in who I am...Meaning, I do not believe that this is all I am meant to be. I have been more and I have been less. I have purpose and with luck, my life will have meaning to others. After I pass, I may return as a swallow, another woman, a man, or your cat. I may be the ant who is tortured by children or the peasant who is tortured by circumstance.
I will not return as a of the unconscionable souls tending the alter of economy, persecution and power. Hell is very real but its dimension exists now. Demons exist but they wear the skins of sharks and prey upon the poor. Damnation is often a choice.
Are we animal or are we human? Do you know the difference? Lost Souls, you are not lost. You have only forgotten the way. The path is laid out before you, now walk forth and exist.

No comments:

Post a Comment