You are the ground,
The splintered I Am of isness,
Witness to a mysterious, imagined theater,
A dreamer dreaming the kaleidoscoping light show real,
The eternal nature masked by endless variations of laughter and sorrow.
Why? No one can know. That you are is surely enough.

* * * *
Surrender your identity:
Your names and cravings,
Your fears, angers and doubts,
Your knowledge, opinions and habits,
Your ambitions to achieve one glory or another.
Surrender everything you believe you are,
That you have never really been.

* * * *
There is no Eastern or Western thought,
Only an awareness manifesting consciousness,
Blanketed by an innumerable array of mythologies.

* * * *
If you arrogantly believe yourself more spiritually significant
Than a cockroach, grain of sand, or pile of dung,
Then you are missing the real point.
There is great wonder in realizing you are one
With worms, snails, lice, flies, toads, salamanders and snakes.

* * * *
Are you able to examine your existence
Without any attachment, craving or trepidation?
Dispassionately, objectively, reserving all arrogant judgments,
Seeing forthrightly, clearly, without ulterior motive,
Observing closely the many joys and sorrows,
The likes and dislikes, the loves and hates,
The thoughts, beliefs, opinions, conclusions,
The endless flow of people, places, things, ideas,
The seemingly countless array of passing experiences,
And come to the realization that it was really all your creation,
An inexplicable, intangible, ungraspable, timelessly wondrous journey,
Imagined by a dreamer whose infinitely choiceless nature is prior to all imagination.

One * 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 * Thirty

Of the Human Journey * Got God? * Ten Reflections

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