I am the root of reality and the flower of illusion. No wonder awakening is so hard, for paradox is the point of power. I am both truth and illusion, fed by streams of pure water and hocus pocus in abundance. Some call this world maya; I call it a testing ground. For I have been led to drink pure water while under illusion’s veil. It is terribly confusing.
Bliss and suffering flow together along the banks of the River Life. Commingled is human love and hate, the pure awareness and the low-down, dirty lie. Jazz, blues and cosmic symphonies make their way to our ear. Is anyone to blame for this barfed-up bag of tricks?
Some come to hate God and others to love him. Some awaken and others deepen their sleep. Is there any rhyme or reason to this ongoing Scrabble game? I like to think there is, but as often as not, I walk in the rain and am soaked with sorrow. I sit in the sun and dry out in bliss. I break down and rise up. I shout and I whisper. I walk between the lines and color outside of them. I am a divine freak show.
I love the truth of my being and I fall into disarray at least once a day. My petals bruised and falling, I return to my root. There I sit soaking in the silence. I remember who I am. I give thanks for light. I vow to do better by being better. For I have learned that doing is my downfall. I was born to be. Doing is just a distraction.
Some of you think I am crazy. I think some of you are, so that’s a Mexican standoff. Who will win in the war against reality? Who will sit down and be counted as a servant of the real? Anyone can do it if they remember that the mixing of the truth and the lie do not go on forever. Somewhere out there we live as One. And somewhere in here we know it.