I spent some time putting my files in order before I set to writing. I write faithfully every day to quiet my senses and draw reality from the hearth of my eternal home. I usually am hesitant to start writing. It is hard to leave one mental space for another. It calls for ungluing from a world that has a strangle hold on me to one where I am totally free. The disparity is great, and I resist making the shift to a different kind of perception. I know it will be hard to come back to Earth.
I have only words now to make the ineffable real, to tell myself about my true nature—I knew myself before I became a human. Perhaps, for this reason, are my words magical words. I receive them as if they were sacred promises held in secret, waiting to be found, because something sacred waits to be found. But I don’t know what will be said by the little keys standing patiently for my touch. We will be surprised. In becoming a person I closed myself off from the Waterfall that erupts from my slightest asking into a sparkling torrent of inspiration.
I am still thinking about those files and so my attention is split. I often seek distractions to dispel my chronic feelings of dépaysement—a French word for the feeling of disorientation that occurs when you find yourself in a country that is not your home (the whole feeling-tone of my life on Earth). Just seeing an outer world has been too much for me. From the day of my birth I felt the outer impressions draw me away from my center of being. Much of the time my two worlds collide rather than meet to harmonize into fresh climes of experience. My once single mind has become an unruly country, and I am too often ruled by its clutter.
Surprisingly, I find peace and order in gazing at my coffee cup. The blue one I like so much. I realize it is because it is straight-sided and plain and sits so convincingly on the desk. It looks sure of itself. I’ve never understood complicated things. I started life very simple. When I was what the world calls a child, I believed in happiness. It took only going to my innermost self to show me a world standing upright. It was all within me, so real I didn’t have to imagine it. That need came later, when I saw another world outside myself. Like laughter for balance, imagination was invented to help humans create from their separateness.
I stayed a long time with my tiny feet on planet Earth while I remained open to the silent potential within me. Knowing that all I needed as a human being came from within me I never searched for anything in the world. I let each gift of life come, confident it would. It always did. And as I remained at-one with my subtle nature, the outer world kept on its course. My room was always my room in the seasons that came and went under a sun that allowed each evolving morning to turn a child into a woman who now had to imagine her real self.
…. ah, the coffee needs replenishing!
The need for hot coffee brings me out of my reverie. It was from love of others that I let myself look away from my innerness. A world of “other people” now held my attention. Today’s writing stirred the still waters to become a waterfall and brought me my simple self. For a moment. But I’ll keep writing.
Forever is here. Confident coffee cups show it. And little backlit keys rejoice when they tell of it. It’s that kind of reality.