Over my lifetime I’ve experienced my rhythms and rituals shift and bend according to unknown, unconscious forces that have their say and input in this song of me. I don’t play the rhythm, it plays me; I don’t do the ritual, it does me; I don’t journey on my healing voyage, it travels along me. And I have no idea how it’s done, I just know it is.
Then, something happens along the way, this way, which, by imperceptible changes and degrees emerges, then arrives….something. And you don’t know it’s there until you know it’s there. This something that happens happens as is, as being; this mysterious something, for which you pray, maybe, and seek after, maybe, happens the way a breath happens, ever-present and never seen until awareness shifts unconsciously.
And it, this something, is evidenced in the shattering of the mirror, the mirror of confirming. And with the mirror dies projecting as ultimate reflecting for self is no longer, no longer a thing unto itself. It becomes mere seeing, not seeing self in other, for other is no longer, but rather being the seeing that births the seen. In this way, even if only glimpsed momentarily here and there in experience, this is seeing becomes being, in the One, as the One.
With the shattering of this mirror – this mirror by which we confirmed existence, formed identity, imprinted and impacted life and evolution, personal and collective, as an evolving thing called into existence as one of infinite expressions of One Thing to become a possibility of power and being forever – shatters the sense of seeing as once known, a way to confirm other and self as expressions of Something Else. It all ceases to exist, not through annihilation but through assimilation, not through transcendence but through imminence. One. Now. Ever. All.
As a consequence then, I become aware that I don’t travel, I am the traveling; I don’t journey, I am the journey; and when I am seeking I am the seeking seeking Self in self…until, having reached the realm beyond self, beyond seeking, where all seeking ceases, you find only pieces of the shattered mirror….only to pick up the pieces and begin again.
Mystical undulations on this serpentine path, I flow and am the flow; I ride, am ridden, and become the ride. Just when you think you are living you wake up to realize it is you being lived until you awake again as living and no more.
You are the Big Bang. Your are Creator. It’s still happening…and you are the happening.