Tuesday, February 01, 2011

More from the archives

Life Seeks It's Reflection
Mixed Media on Canvas

Here is a little more from my conversation with my sons and wife.

In talking about miracles - and life in the universe - the question came up as it always will: Why? What's it all for? Is God a guy with a beard?

Well, I can't answer these questions for anyone. The search for the answers is what can come to define the shape of your life, so I leave that entirely up to you. All I know is what I know.

In my own meditations and dreaming I have found that it is all a beautiful, timeless weave, everything touches everything eventually. We are a fabric, a song.

We are life's longing for itself, the universe seeking it's own reflection. I look at you and I see the spark of the divine in you. I see that you are not only a part of creation, you are creation fulfilled. You are the dreaming creator. So am I. So is everyone and everything. Behind the mask of our physical forms lies the underlying and awesome truth: we are all the same.

When you look down past molecules, past electrons, past quarks, and so on, you come to it. The place where there is nothing. A vast emptiness. It is neither cold, nor warm. Neither dark nor light. It is the place where the dream of existence originates.

There is no dichotomy or good or evil or right or wrong. All is one with no judgments.

Where do our prayers go? Where does our meditation take us? Could it be that place where nothing is written, where all things are possible?

Could there have been nothing and so at the same time everything?

Could it be that we are the mind of the universe? That we are it's senses? That if that is so, then perhaps one day we will know the slow burning thoughts of a star, the great song of a galaxy and witness the dance of a trillion souls in endless variety, played out against this cosmic playground.

But for now it's enough to look at a leaf, breathe in the air, feel the beating of your own heart. For now, listen to the silence, for it too is a song. Watch a mote of dust spinning through the air, pushed by nothing but the warmth of the sun through a windowpane. You are watching an entire reality float by in the late afternoon light.

For now breathe and let love be your truth. It's enough. Indeed, it's all there is.


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