We Are All Just Lost in Thought
Nameless, thoughtless and absent of identity, the gift is offered, freely given, unconditional, and universally understood like the loving whisper of friendship among two who have not seen each other in such a long time that their faces need to come slowly into focus. What seemed completely forgotten is only nearly forgotten. Spoken in the true voice of God and on its gentle stirring, the door to its remembrance is opened.
White like pure cotton without any fiber or shadow; warm and inviting, gentle and void of texture, without edges, folds or creases; it’s a feeling that dances and laughs its way towards me; like a happy march, in perfect unison, yet casual, kind and without malice. The absence of fear, guilt, shame and anger allows for the essence of God’s unspoken nature to pour in.
Aroma like honey baked into cookies or lilac hanging on spring air. The smell of sea breeze after a storm; the memory of the scent of calamine mixed with mother’s concern; it’s knowing the gentle nature of forgiveness that lacks any resentment or superiority. Surely it was always there, gently offered and patiently waiting to be recognized. Held in perfect suspension, timeless and unchanged, clement, the will of God, everywhere and at the same time nowhere at all.
Imagine if a loud appliance suddenly shut off; an appliance that had been running and getting louder, unnoticed until it suddenly stopped, uncovering the realization that it had been screaming in the background for so long the noise had become compulsory. And what is left behind is a sweet and gentle silence that is complete and perfect, and in that silence is the message of the understanding of the reason for being. It’s the answer to all questions. It’s the answer to math problems, and the answer to all the science that has ever been committed. It’s the answer to all desires. What is in the silence is, and everything else is not.
Coming towards me through a dark winter window, my sharp outline reflected in front of a bathroom light, love reaching out to me and melted guilt and fear. I remember and I’m aware that I want to find a word for the wordless. In my awareness ego attacks these feelings like a small dog chasing away a truck. A word to define that, which is without definition, and in its blindness, ego rejects the gift, once more deciding to perpetuate the crazy idea of separation. It plugs the noisy appliance back in making it grumble, once again to cover up its underlying fear.
But the gift has been delivered. And now I know what I’ve been looking for. The seed has been planted, and while ego revels in its recent illusionary victory, a tiny ray of light gently lands, like a kiss on my forehead, calling me to awaken from my own personal nightmare.