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!


everything one needs to know

1                    this unlit light, this Presence in which the sense of ‘I’ arises, is eternal.  It is the core of you.  It is never born and never dies.  Best befriend it, for there’s no escape from it.  It’s your ‘I’, my ‘I’ – one, and only one, ‘I’.

2                    God is, like it or not.  However, names (including the God-name), ideas, opinions, descriptions or images of this ineffableness, are lies.  Remove the lies and what remains?  Your ‘I’, my ‘I’.  God is Light, the scriptures tell us.  Unlit Light.  See #1.

3                    Angels exist, as surely as do you.  The easy way to make their acquaintance is to stop believing the story about your aloneness, your separation.  The veil that separates one from the unseen energies which clamor to comfort, to heal, and to guide, is woven of thoughtstuff.  You don’t have to believe in angels, you simply suspend skepticism.  Stop the story.  Silence is like a gilt-edged invitation to your seamless support team.
(Angels taught me this.)