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In my waking breath, I start and start again this day’s long pace.

I have a choice to walk it right or throw the day to waste?

Can stay captive to the mind-noise that yesterday I fought,

or carry forth the truth set in unencumbered thought.

 

I can busy [me,] my self, in the ego-sea of [me,]

or journey to a world of those around who’ve been set free.

Can nod to no importance, ignore beauty through my eyes,

or linger in the peacefulness, seeing splendor beyond the skies.

 

If my heart is beyond shallow I won’t hear the crying sound,

I’m destined to the sadness of a horrid day gone down,

and patterns that have made Me [me,]

repeating, reseeding, a lost strategy.

 

This thing we’re all built on, truth and love and willing,

it’s time to set a new stride and keep the dark from killing.

It’s time to offer Gratitude and Loving arms embrace,

it’s time to see our lives are just a wasteland ‘cept for Grace.

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[This montage image was produced with a series of photos taken with an iPhone while imagining nothing and beginning with no idea for the outcome. It was spontaneous combustion, through the sheer joy of experimentation and exploration. A photographic doodle of sorts.]

The world of form is enlivened by our senses, without which we would have no response to life. Those senses spark emotions inside us that play with the mind and move us to communicate responses. We are the experience of our perceptions.

With all the shuttering-in we’re a part of now I thought it would be nice to post back our “Journey to 500.” A guided meditation through time, it can be a salve and a calming for our jittered state. So put on the headphones, find a gazing point and get ready for your flight into the future of your mind, your body and your soul.

 

 

Will you remember me
When there’s no more of me to see?
Will you remember the things that went so wrong
Or remember the sometimes good we’ve done?
Will you remember me
When there’s no more of me to see?
Will you remember the pain I sometimes put you through
Or the tenderness that sprung from my heart for you?
Will you remember me
When there’s no more of me to see?
Will you remember the deep sorrow we weathered
Or the beautiful happiness we shared together?
Will you remember me
When my ashes are long for the sea?
When the days are many and your heart less heavy
How will you remember me?
© 2017 Stefan Bright

“Thank you for taking the time to explain that—once again,” I acknowledge, still vibrating from my glimpse of the cosmic web. “We have been talking about presence. I sensed that size doesn’t matter to it; that surprised me, really. The same presence seemed to pervade the entire Cosmos when it was spread before me, with exactly the same intensity as on my own human scale.”

V answers, “You are correct. Presence is itself in all times and spaces, in all dimensions—great or small. Subatomic waves or inter-galactic filaments don’t matter—presence gives it all the same precious attention. It never varies or departs. Presence cannot leave, cannot separate. It is the very being of being itself.”

I continue to wonder, “Are we still on track in this conversation, V, with your project?”

“Indeed we are. Let me say it yet another way. The intention of this book is to aid you to identify with your true identity: The one that lies beneath form, beneath even Life itself—the utter bottom. Source! It is the Ancient of Days, the ‘one about whom naught may be said’. To ‘say’ anything about Source is to place it inside a form. Source is formless; it cannot be contained in a form, such as a definition or a concept or a feeling. It does, of course, generate all form, but its true reality is far beyond form. The ‘identity’ intention in these messages is to connect you and transmute you, not to form you, not to give you another form to identify with.”

I feel I need to challenge something she just said. “If nothing can be said about Source, what is it that you are saying here? Aren’t you talking about it now?” (more…)