There is only one insight worth the trouble, but that is the one that finds you, not one you can find. Anything short of that realization will ultimately be unsatisfying regardless of how awesome it feels in the moment of recognition. All but one insight dims. Most make room for the next, opening up the craving, the space for more of the same, or simply more.

As long as you believe that you can do something to get somewhere, struggle will continue. It doesn’t matter if that somewhere is a bigger bank account, a new lover, a bigger house or awakening to the truth of what you are, as long as the idea of individual accomplishment lives, struggle and suffering live with it.

It seems the last fallacies to fall are the ideas of free will, of choice, and personal doership. This trinity is the holy grail of separation, the three integrated notions that cannot but keep on giving the sense of individual accomplishment or failure. It doesn’t really matter which sense, success or failure, is currently in play, for each holds the other snug to its bosom.

Life is tough. It is beyond the pale of hard. There is nothing that can be done to make it otherwise. Permanent anything is impossible. People die. Illness happens. Lives end. One way or the other we lose everything material. So what’s left? Maybe you think a legacy is the answer. That might work for a few years, but in the scheme of things, even that will disappear from sight without much warning. Do you remember your great grandmother or great great grandfather? That’s just two or three generations removed, and they are already fading into the mists of history.

We are passing through and our lives are but a spark in the fires of awareness. That is not a bad thing. We just think it is. It isn’t. In fact, it is stunningly beautiful, all the more so for its precious brevity. Were we to truly recognize the truth, instead of fighting against what was, is and always will be, we could appreciate one another anew.

Instead, we grab for the golden ring that all religions and spirituality as a whole, offer, ways to take us beyond the fray of life, that grant us an escape route into stories of being reborn, of heaven that awaits, of reincarnation, ascension, of sitting at the foot of God, of hallelujahs and circles of prayer. Look closely. What do they all have in common? It sure isn’t life as it is right now.

We give up this gift, this most amazing breath, the life and love that is here right now for a hope and a prayer that we get it right, we figure it out and will be worthy of redemption.

What a lot of bull.

I’ll say that again. What a crock of $hit.

And worse yet … what a painful way to live.

We are given the grace of a human life, the senses to feel the sun on our face, the sweet touch of a lover, the wetness of tears as they roll down our cheeks. We are granted the glory of the magical mystical senses, the five we all know, and a few that most miss entirely.

We’ve been given the experience of a lifetime and the literal ALL that it includes. Mountains to climb, lakes to swim, smiles to embrace, hearts to engage. For goodness sake! We can experience the tiny splash of a drop of rain falling on our outstretched tongue, the cushy embrace of grass on bare feet, puppy dog licks and soccer ball kicks, the incredible taste of fresh berries on a summer night, and hugs, loads and loads of hugs. My God! Could it get any better?!

If we did nothing but sit and watch the world with a twinkle of awe in our hearts, being embodied would still be worth the ride, but we don’t. We writhe in our own versions of how life should be, finding angers to stoke, new things to divide, jangled plans to conquer, all ways to divvy life’s beautiful wholeness into fractured fractions of desire. Looking for a way out, we miss the magnificence tucked just out of sight in our own back pocket, the limitless unfathomable experience of love and loving.

What’s funny, in an exceedingly sad sort of way, is this love that can only find us, that we can’t find, works its magic when we stop, when we quit running away from life. Eventually stopping happens. This thing we call death makes that a certainty, but you don’t have to wait. Stop. Stop and feel life exactly as it is right now. Aren’t you tired of that self-imposed hamster wheel? It’s exhausting. It’s a killer.

I love you. You are loved. You are love. Life doesn’t have to hurt so bad.

Josephine Wall: Dryad and the Tree Spirit

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