nothing ever dies but a dream

I’m celebrating an anniversary this morning. Three years ago the dream had a daughter holding her beloved mother as she breathed the breath that would never return.

I’m also celebrating because, for the first time in those three years, the pain has vanished. The passage of time is a great healer, as is the time spent silently aware-ing on the zafu.  But I also honor the beloved mentors who have appeared in the story, their healing tools in hand. They are many, but I particularly want to thank: A kind, wise Lama, who sent me away on a retreat to find “the mother” I mourned. And a dear, dear woman whose energy healing (EFT) triggered the release of volumes of stories held in this body’s cellular vaults. And – Byron Katie. The work of the Work leaves no lie uncovered, and o-m-g some monster furphies were happily beavering away in this wee dream called ‘me’. One of them, running below the limn of  consciousness in spite of intellectual clarity about and acceptance of impermanence and the impossibility of independent self-hood, was a subtle and sneaky belief in death.

Nothing was ever born but a dream.
Nothing ever dies but a dream.

Reality is the always-stable, never-disappointing base of experience.
When I look at what really is, I can’t find a me.
As I have no identity, there’s no one to resist death.
Death is everything that has been dreamed,
including the dream of myself,
so at every moment I die of what has been
and am continually born as awareness in the moment,
and I die of that, and am born in it again.
The thought of death excites me.
Everyone loves a good novel and looks forward to how it will end.
It’s not personal.
After the death of the body, what identification will the mind take on?
The dream is over, I was perfection,
I could not have had a better life.
And whatever I am is born in this moment
as everything good that has ever lived.
~ Byron Katie

One dream ends. And here’s the beauty of it – this unlit light | reality | primordial awareness – abides, even as new dreams appear.

And I can hear her l a u g h t e r . . .

Gladness! Gratitude! Grace!

.

9 thoughts on “nothing ever dies but a dream

  1. Miriam,

    It’s awe-inspiring to see this interweaving of relative and absolute healing approaches lighting you up in every moment. Is this a poem from Byron Katie? It’s incredible. I would love to share it on my blog sometime if that’s OK with you.

    • Thank you for your kind comment dear Sandra. Yes, the quote is from Byron Katie – I’ve set it out as a poem, but it was originally a piece of prose. I’m pretty confident she’d be happy for it to be shared on your wonderful blog, with links back to ‘The Work’ website: http://www.thework.com
      Bless!

  2. To Cheryl and Susan – two women of awesome creativity and wisdom –
    I bow.
    To know you are part of this … tribe … although so far away … raises me up.
    Gratitude ~ ml

  3. Pingback: Death | Standing in an Open Field

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