Awakened beings seem to like this theme: all One.
Someone might ask, that sounds nice, but how does it work?
Well, maybe like this: those dishes you're scrubbing in the sink, those dishes are your lover giving you a soapy rub down. That boy's hand you are holding, that is your grandmother's hand. The clouds you are staring at in the sky, those clouds are the latest political scandal you've read about in the paper today. That traffic light changing, that is your mother's smile when she first laid eyes on you after your birth into this world. That step you are taking, that is your next big success. That breath your are exhaling, that is your next big setback.
Mothers, who may or may not be awakened beings, have told us repeatedly that we should do unto others as we would have done to ourselves. Mother once told me "Be with others as you would be with yourself. After all, you are others."
Sure. I'll believe that when I see it. You might say. How does that work?
That person you flipped off on the freeway is the pain in your neck. Those people you are bombing are your kidneys. Those people you are cheating are your heart. Those things you are throwing away are your spine. Those words your are speaking are your lungs. That dog you are petting is your hand. That car you are driving is your legs. That television you are watching is your eyes. That universe you have yet to explore is your mind. That Beloved you have yet to embrace is your Self.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
You. Yes, you. Rise. Be light now. Embrace homo luminous, the next phase of human evolution. You needn't think about it. You needn't resist. Whisper to your left brain. Now rest. Shout out to your right brain. Ignite! Enflame! The drummers, together, slam down their entire beings to the pavement. Earth trembles. Nothing doing, but Love, Love Love! Wake at night and get yourself a glass of water. You deserve it. Water! Miracle! You! All! It!
Mrs. Halloway rises from bed. The only other thing in the cell is her harp. It glows. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, sits down, snuggles up to the harp and fondles its strings. The harp’s sound vibrates with the desire to be destroyed. Destroy me, the harp begs. Mrs. Halloway stands and says, I will destroy you myself. She uses all her might to kick the harp to the ground. She proceeds to give the harp a thorough beating. When there is nothing left but a pile of dust and a few loose strings, Mrs. Halloway raises her arms up and roars. Om! The inmates in the next cell wake, open their eyes. Purple beams of light shine from the sockets where human eyes should have been. The prisoners try and fail to move; the shackles hold them firmly against the wall. Is the wall breathing? Has the floor dropped? Does the universe punish light? The entire prison starts to rattle and moan. A bloodthristy insect creeps in through a crack. After an eternity, the shackles dissolve; the prisoners bow down to kiss that crack. By now, Mrs. Halloway has finished reassembling the harp again. She strikes a chord that becomes the seed of sound for creating a new world.