The more I learn, the more I realise I am much less – less than I believe myself to be in my mind-created world. I realise also that I know very little. For all of my years of experience, accumulated knowledge, insights and wisdom, I see that I am becoming empty, not full.
Healing and growing has become a life-long process for me, hunting myself, seeing through the illusion of persona, perspective and pattern. The process became a passion that has taken me far, travelling not only across parts of the world but also into the heart of me. I am so much more than I was all those years ago, the real me has been revealed and rescued from the compacted hidden depths of mind. Or so I believed.
Truth seeds into the illusion. A shoot breaks the surface of the soil into the light. The first bud gives way to the first flowering and then comes delight, dancing in the light of self that is becoming. Now a canopy has grown aloft on stout branches. Green shoots have become green leaves and spiritual photosynthesis nourishes my being. I reach up towards the heavens and witness the bright stars of the night, imbibing their luminous light- consciousness, and stillness grows.
In that stillness I notice worlds without number in this highest of canopies above my own. Most of all I see the scale of it all, the vastness stretching out, seemingly endless. Entire star systems are reduced to mere pinpricks of faint light, their circling planets a suggestion in my awareness unseen by the naked eye. In the silence of the night, somewhere near dawn, a realisation creeps into me like the hint of the coming day… I am a pinprick of light on a planet circling our star. Suddenly, the scale of self sends a shockwave through my quantum form. Intensely I recognise the magnificence of all that I can encompass and comprehend. I am so very small, insignificant within this panoply. I am nothing. But then, just as a blade of grass contributes to a green meadow I see that if I were not there, then perhaps no other blade could be there and neither could the meadow. And if the meadow could not exist, then all in this manifested universe could not be here either. Inwardly seeking, my great trunk creaks and sways gently in the sudden breeze of self-realisation.
It is all so perfect. My passionate search need not be so determined, my scrutiny not so intense. The night sky moves into soft focus as a tear glazes over the lens. The commitment to evolve can consume the spirit. Perspective frosts over. I have somehow lost myself in a new layer of illusion. My seeking may have begun in honest innocence but if it ever began to define me then all would be lost: I will have forgotten my essence. All of Creation is simply being. Beyond the form of self, observing the stars, observing me, there is no movement, only magnificent form, myriad pixels of consciousness creating the entire picture.
I cannot see where this revelation is leading me. This sudden thought immediately misleads me, the stillness within fractures as once again I become the movement of mind. The first finger of sunlight causes the starlight to fade away, the skies of my insight cloud over. The rhythm of this world once again imposes. I must breathe and translate the energies given to me so lovingly. I must accept the new day exactly as it is. A soft wind stirs my heart to give way to the extension of my limbs. There I stretch out, exercising. I drink gratefully through the first rain drenching. An echo of the passing night speaks: surrender without resistance to the new day. I am complete in an instant. Is there perfection in this world? Is it possible to become the stillness of divine self, perfectly at peace… and to hold it forever? I am mortal and my form demands that I must remain, however tenuously, linked to an environment that is constantly in motion. Perhaps perfection is achieved when all resistance to the ebb and flow of mind and of heart can accept the balance of life. I am anchored here by choice. Inspiration stirs, inner knowing births insight: I came to experience and to express myself in this possibility of being. My searching has led me full circle. I see that there is no need to search further, for I am found, home, here in myself.
Now the full light of the sun fondles my leafy canopy. The light breeze of a summer found makes a rustling sound. My bower invites lovers to linger and to find each other. What do I seek that has not already been found by the stars in the firmament above and already known to me? I laugh joyfully at the realisation, shaking my green, wooden limbs free of the constriction of my mind. I am complete as I stand.