Coffee this morning in the green rocker facing one of my early paintings, “Spirit Speaks.” I read and write down insights in my journal while sitting in this old rocker between jaunts outside with the cats.
This morning, George encounters his father, a huge tom that saunters silently in slow motion like a leopard. Shadow jumps on the latia fence, lowers her body and tries to be invisible.
I was going to protect George and then noticed with much surprise, that he and the big tom were trying to work out a way to share this territory. “Big Boy” growls and sprays the Chamisa to the side of where George is laying and then lays down behind him. They sniff each other cautiously and the big tom saunters away carefully turning to look back every few steps. George follows him across the cul-de-sac and I hear yowls coming from a patch of sunflowers. However, this time there is no fight and George returns in a few minutes.
The morning is still cool but summer enough to leave the door open so that inside and outside blend comfortably. There are ecstatic waves flowing throughout my body this morning. This experience comes in pulsating surges lately. The most intense episode was about three months ago and then it gradually faded into to my ordinary state. However, the experience remained in memory. Not just mental memory but my entire memory, physical and emotional as well. I was not disturbed when it began to fade. I intuitively knew that it would return from time to time and that it was not a state that should ever be constant.
This morning I realized that depression, which I've experienced much of my life, comes from external sources that are trying to neutralize and eradicate me. This destructive power resides in several erroneous assumptions partially synchronized with cultural beliefs and partially with family conditioning. I suddenly feel foolish for being victimized by such dubious sources. Then a moment of clarity flashes like sheet lightning and I can see that this identity is like old paint wearing thin and now chipping away in chunks to reveal something entirely unexpected but stunningly palpable.
I don’t own myself! Only this ego created by the illusions of family and social habits then rendered by my incomplete child self believes there is a factual form that is I.
Since I don’t own myself or anyone else, my charge is to be an experience within this multiverse of brothers and sisters that encompass the countless throng of beings expressing the creation we share.
Since I don’t own myself and am a product of millions of ascending years molding and shaping the manifestation of multidimensional powers extending beyond this universe, my consciousness becomes a tool of creation. Boundless powers invigorate the universe and all spring from the ONE.
Since I don’t own myself, this cloak that is my body transports my initiative to unite with the Universal Oneness within this instrument that is I in a form that is forever morphing.
I am but a minute pixel in a great holographic image. I am all in greatly abbreviated presentation. However, I am much more than a biological machine as the scientific orthodoxy might define me.
The machine is a crude replica of me, as I am a crude replica of the ONE. I cannot create anything that I am not, nor can I un-create what is. However, I can jumble its various expressions into parts that seemingly conflict each other. This I do by living the Universe in bits, yet this is a judgement by one holographic particle within the illusion of separation from its essence. This is the “I am apart” of original sin.
Amazingly, that I can be alienated from the ONE is a miraculous manifestation of the ever-becoming One. The great fall that split our consciousness from oneness is also the unique miracle of creation. We carry onward the original complication of separation, thus enabling the Universe endlessly to swell in beingness.
We are one and one falsely separated by that most famous cunning serpent that awakened the temptation to taste a flavor beyond paradise. Again and again, we repeat this adventure with the alluring taste of separation. A sweet taste that becomes bitter in time.
Splitting into pieces sparks longing to restore oneness. Separation from the ONE explodes into love and hate. This Original Sin fires the engine of creation again and again and again.
The Universe is alive and so is each holographic pixel in creating the whole picture, otherwise how could I be alive and how would I ever notice that you are alive.
I have a shadow. That way you can tell where I am in relation to the light. Dark and light express from one, but light is power, dark is effect.