Writing about true nature is tricky. As best I can, realizing it’s not me writing words flow that are bound to fall short of the mark. They are arrows flying through appearances of time and space. I smile as my fingertips loose from the string of life and the arrows fly. Even a poor bowman, hits the mark occasionally and that’s worth however many shots I am compelled to take.
I’ve also been known to write from the perspective of duality, the progressive paths where the appearances in time and space — you and me and the world — come to life, with posts about letting go, releasing old stories, learning how to fully feel each nuance of experience, wading in the murky waters of thought and belief.
Neither alone is accurate but it is nearly impossible, perhaps truly impossible, to write about both sides of the coin in the same sentence without creating a breeding ground for great confusion.
One appears, manifests, exists as things, as people and the world, captivates the imagination, makes itself known to be quite real; the other has no shape and form, no time and space, no edges and seams, nothing at all to grasp. One is impossible to write about, the other quite easy. After all, words were created from and just for descriptions of duality. Not so much for consciousness.
One is not without the other. There are not two sides, both sides. There is only This, consciousness and its activity, awareness and the manifesting world, the I Am and the all that is, the isness of life.
Writing about consciousness, the seamless spaceless wonder is but one half of a love story, and make no mistake, this is an extraordinary love story. Writing about duality, the appearances of you, me and the world without putting consciousness at the heart of the story is equally remiss … love without its heart … objects with space in which to appear … life without living. The list is endless.
The world is consciousness made manifest, love in form, the activity of Life, Each expression, each and every one of us, is the ephemeral shimmer of love, timeless ageless playfulness, God expressing God, love loving itself. We are magnificence, the brilliance of Creativity creating, not a co-creator, but the creator, for there is nothing but This We Are.
What stands in the way of this knowing? Only the stories we have made up and woven into memories. Their origins, the initial hurt or fear long forgotten, heavily suppressed, unmet untended stories still silently reverberate within.
Life is the progressive undoing, the return to true nature, arrows sailing through the skies of duality into the clear sky of awareness. Appearances in duality are part of our continuing story, are crucial to the path of remembering. They are swoon-worthy miracles, sharpened arrowheads ready to pierce the veils of forgetting.
Knowing what we are, seeing that we are awareness (obvious to anyone who truly looks), abiding here, now in non-resistance, is essential to remembering as well. Abiding as consciousness allows The Great Undoing access to the inner sanctum where we so expertly hide our pain from the eyes of the world, from ourselves.
To return to the Whole, to heal from the delusion, body, mind and soul, the whole of us, consciousness and its appearances in duality, are embodied. Leave anything behind and a path remains. Some thing to resist creates very natural, totally automatic resistance.
You don’t go Home by yourself. That is impossible. It’s never a single one-way ticket. You go home as the whole, the entirety or continue to play the game of duality until you do. You cannot fail. Eventually you cannot but pay the price. The price of the ticket — everything.