I might be addicted to inner work/introspection and nature of consciousness investigation. I just realized this may very well be one of the many addictions people develop nowadays. I am aware it gave me valueble information and it carried me forward through stages and crisis. The journey up and away from the world is followed by a new adventure down and facing the world. Except now I know who the dreamer of the dream is. On the journey up there, many layers of identities fall off. Naked soul returns to the world, to face its ugliness and hypocrisy, surrounded by strangers, without any role or identity, at peace in the heart, always at home. Yet bare skin hypersensitivity does not make living easy.
The new dream is a simple dream: poetry of experience. A beautiful friendly mind (once acquired, better said reclaimed from the seeking or inventing of a meaning for existence, the root of all craziness, the first step in all myths and dramas) refines experience, making each moment a glorious poem of love.
Words won’t do for this poem though. This poem is composed of us, of our eyes and ears and fingers, movements of our hearts. This poem is the way we are. Simply being. Childlike wonder “what else is really here?” fills with delight every passing moment.
I invite you to look honestly and earnestly at your life and recognize all its dramas. I invite to look now even further back in time and discover the moment when you said to yourself “I must give a meaning to my life” or perhaps someone else said to you “this is the meaning of your life” and you believed it. Now look even further back, before that decisive moment. How was your life then? Happy, you find. Life comes with an inherent meaning: happiness ever after. No need to invent a meaning. I invite you to accept it is possible to return to that beautiful inherent meaning. Just a journey up and away … then courage to come back down and face the world. Eventually, you’ll find a good place to be.
A. Garden, October 2020