As my body ages, I have, like so many other older persons
before me, become more selective with whom I hang out, and the circumstances in
which I hang out.
As that inner kern of peace expands, like a tsunami, it swells
to collect everything that’s not real and then washes the debris out to sea.
And thus, after this spiritual tidal wave, I look around both inwardly and outwardly, and I
see fewer distractions, fewer obstacles between imagined me and the perfection
of my true Self.
This past year, the era of Corona, has been like an extended
spiritual retreat. Not a vacation, but an ever-present reminder of my true
purpose in life: finding the obstacles to peace and allowing them to drop by
the wayside. The situation has been so threatening at times, the alternative so
apparent, that I turn within now with a willingness and longing I have seldom
experienced when “the good times” were rolling. Who wants to remember they are
not of this world when sitting on a Greek Island, sipping Ouzo, and watching an awesome
sunset? When the good times get going, the aspirants stay planted in the beauty
of the illusion.
These past months, the Corona Police have hindered the
luxury of pretending the world of form is enough, so much so that the True Light
was able to shine through and lead me through the valley of the shadow of death…
death to most of what this world has to offer.
And now, I dread the return. As the lockdown eases up, I
feel like an unborn baby that clings to the inner warmth and security of the womb; of an effortless existence. The thought of reappearing in this world of
illusive well-being, getting caught up in its dramas and tragedies, has me
clinging to my own four walls, my small alternative to a world gone mad, the
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
“Who is the I who
wants to stay separated, and what is it I want to stay separated from?”
As long as these questions remain, I realize I am still very
much a part of this world of form and have much more to realize before I am
fully aware of the Truth of the matter.
But I continue to sing the Psalms of praise to the glory of
my true Self, continue more often than not to choose love over fear. What else
can I do? The memory of eternity is too present to quit now and fall asleep.
In my breast there is a bubbling of joy, a rush of pure knowing
keeps me steady in the light of Perfection.
