Essence cannot speak or be seen, yet it is who we are. I woke up from a nightmare in which my late husband fell to his death. After a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea, I sat wrapped in the mystery of life. It will not yield up its secrets for one simple reason. It cannot speak or be seen.
Life is not for us but for God, for our essence. We mortals are simply here to enrich our essence. Every day of life we are either adding to the storehouse of essence or robbing it. In our western culture, more than likely the latter scenario is true.
When we exit the birth canal, we are torn from essence and enrobed in personality. Everyone pays the price for this. Jesus certainly did. The parables in which he spoke make perfect sense to essence. For the mortal man they remain gibberish.
So we stumble through the mass confusion and delirium acting as if we know what we are doing. And we don’t. That is how it is supposed to be. Every time we lay up more treasures in earth, we are taking away an equal amount from our essence.
The math is simple and can be done by anyone. One plus one equals two. One minus one equals none. Nothingness is our true nature. In essence we can neither speak nor be seen. And in our nothingness as mortals, we are born and die within the dream that we can accrue anything but wisdom.
This is a strange note and it sounds strongly in my soul. We are One. We are One. We are One.