"I see Materialism as the reversal of cause/effect by which an illusion of power operates upon and within an illusion of powerlessness.
Source or true Cause is Eternally Indivisible, and yet our human consciousness is a facet of a fragmented disintegrity in which coercive power seems to divide and rule in power OVER Life.
In the wish-attempt to control Life is the reflection of dissonance and disorder which reinforces its own 'foundation'.
The more coercive or fear-defined control is asserted, the more out of control one's self-world experience.
Relinquishing a phoney power allows spontaneous yielding to true harmony of a wholeness of being in resonant relation within all that is presencing itself.
The abyss can symbolize the nothingness of destruction or insanity - but it can also indicate the not-knowing through which Life Knows Itself Truly. For the belief one already knows is the dark lens by which one sees nothing truly.
An unyielding point of view operates 'denial' and wars not with reality but within itself as a denial of awareness of reality - of what is true to the reality that You Are.
To fit or limit oneself to a machine is a chosen condition, but to persist becomes a self-conditioning. But self-definition remains a creative acceptance of true function and not a coercive imposition of power upon powerlessness. Nor a hiding of the illusion of power within a belief in powerlessness."
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Thoughts arise like ripples spreading and interpenetrating in a shaded, reflecting pool:
The thought of separateness is diametrically opposed to the natural flow, one hundred eighty degrees removed from the viewpoint of Unity.
The more our conscious and unconscious identifications are rooted in this erroneous orientation, the more personal effort our false self must expend to maintain its identity and negotiate a world of external entities, uncertainty, injustice, and existential danger.
This sense of being under threat, forced to respond to demands and attacks, attempting to achieve some modicum of control, with no assurances but those we cling to in our minds as hope-notic self-calming suggestions and beliefs...
makes our psychic and energy bodies curl in on themselves, shrivel and harden, as the flow of natural being is cut off by our misalignment with the native state that is our access key to the Source Field from which we spring. By our resistance to what we feel.
Resisting pain, ignoring or fearing discomfort, blaming the world, translates on the opposite end of the scale to a sense of lacking that which is desired and a hesitance to give or receive Love to the fullest, a fear of surrender commensurate with our addiction to control.
We are indeed at war: at war with ourselves.
The shadow,
all that we have broken ourselves away from,
is the judged,
abandoned,
ignored,
unseen,
forgotten,
and innermost piece of ourselves:
the innocence that we lost touch with
when we slipped into our hallucination
of smoking funhouse mirrors,
forged our protective armaments,
built up our defensive walls,
imprisoned and exiled ourselves away
from free, untainted air
and happy days and nights,
from children's laughter,
men and women's work and play
the elders' guiding wisdom,
communion with the spirits
of our celestial ancestors and future generations,
from brotherhood with animals
with flowers, trees, and birds,
from living skies and speaking stones
and waters clear and bright,
in a land now lost and far away,
a fading memory:
our Home.
That homesickness you feel?
Your heart it is that calls.
Your heart is always home,
and there it waits
so infinitely patient
for you to come again into its arms
so that it might communicate with you
as intimately as it did when you were born,
might see your pupils widen with the thrill of remembrance
as illumination dawns
and you regain the wealth of your Self and give
your whole self back to it with molten pleasure,
bubbling with thanks
and dancing, humming,
singing, drumming,
weeping, sighing
breathing, crying
wholehearted odes upon its sweetness,
glories, ways, and mysteries.
It wants to bathe with you in mutual delight
and teach you of the plenitudes of solitude and silence,
eternal stillness moving all.
It wants to show you, teach you, let you feel
the meanings of everything:
of all events and forms and creatures you encounter,
en la belle langue perpétuel d'amour.
It wants to reward you for the everything that you are,
fulfill its every desire and take you along for the ride,
remind you in a million billion ways
of how beautiful and amazing and perfect you are,
just the way you are.
It wants you to know that you are the Special,
that there is only One Special because there is only One Here Looking
and all that it sees is the One Special—itself—
wrapped in wonders of imagination.
The miracle the heart sees is not that the One heals all—
for healing is simply in Love's self-abiding nature—
but that the Dream can feel so real and offer so much
to marvel at, enjoy, to feel thankful for.
So many opportunities and possibilities.
Such multidimensional depth,
such seamless synergy
and infinitely complex interconnection,
endless vistas to explore,
such different stories to live through.
So much beauty.
Such horrible, convincing ugliness
that we can feel full range and subtle nuance of sensation
on the scale from agony to ecstasy,
and all of it a dance
'twixt Love in naked action
and that same Love becostumed and beveiled...
... and none of it can ever kill, undo,
or make us more or less
than Love.
Such exquisite fantasies,
such wit and play and mirth.
Such great and rich adventures
and such joy in hard-won growth.
Such exhilarated awe at pulling off the least expected,
most satisfying outcome.
Such kinship, faith,
and confidence and grace.
Such awesome demonstrations
of the lengths that Love will go
for its Beloved.
This Love continuous
sends waves to wash you home
and flames to lick away your sins,
and yet your doubtful mind insists
on spurning, miscreating lies.
Only stop the torture toys,
let echoes fade away.
Return to harmony and live
the life created as a gift
for God's own child, the One You Are,
at one with Father-Mother.
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