I am human and even that label is more than suspect. Any label you attach to me is in error. Labels merely point to how you perceive that I am showing up in the moment, how you want me to show up, or how you believe I showed up in what you deem our past.

See me as good and worthy, a bitchy mean girl, a friend or family member lacking in humanity, a libtard cursed with empathy, but realize (or not) that any label you assign to me is all about you, about where the expression of infinity that is you is unfolding in this moment. As are any labels I might assign to you, or anyone for that matter. Any label I attach to anything is all this one’s story and they tell a whopper of a tale about where this expression is residing, where she has set up camp, where she has placed her stake in the sand.

Any label automatically attaches to moments, setting them in quick-set concrete, defying them to change, which of course they cannot.

The label instantly hardens, right along with the heart. These bits of concrete are the remnants of imaginary figments, ideas and concepts filtered through lenses of beliefs, fleeting wisps of time pressed between the pages of our self-made, self-enforced stories.

Our storybooks get heavier with each moment of blame, with each judgement we make, with each untended projection of our creation onto another.

The weight is crushing, suicide by story. There is nothing alive within the pages of our books of judgement.

Aliveness is the storyless story, a life lived in acceptance: yes, this is here right now … how fascinating; I wonder what’s up; I wonder how I will be called to respond. It flourishes in curiosity, in not knowing, in the embrace of uncertainty, the openness that leaves us absolutely vulnerable.

You can feel it. Something in you already suspects this. Your body is your compass, and it always tells the truth, even when you don’t listen, even when you don’t want it to.

You are aliveness, not simply alive. We are conditioned to be the walking dead, adding more weight to our shoulders, to our hearts and souls, with each bit of angst, each outrage, with every argument with reality we have. That programming weighs us down with the pretty colored rocks of belief until we drown.

It is possible to live outside of conditioning, released from programming, beyond belief.

Don’t believe me. God, no. You are your own best guide. Your body is your guru. I am simply your reminder. You inherently know this, for you are this.

Amaya is the author of 7 books, the latest Actuality: infinity at play. It is available at Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and IngramSparks.
Actuality: infinity at play by Amaya Gayle Gregory, Paperback | Barnes & Noble®

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