Many of us feel the magnetic pull of something within us we can’t quite explain.  There’s a question that looms larger and larger:  Who am I?  It’s becoming more insistent.  We can all pull quite a long list of things out of our pockets, but intuitively we know our list isn’t answering the question.

Just try it.  Ask yourself, “Who am I?”  When you’ve exhausted your list, sit quietly for a moment.  Do you feel that tug?  Something is still asking, “But, who am I?”  You can produce another list, things you may have forgotten:  a man, a woman, a human being, an Earthling, a Christian, a Hindu, a mother, a father, a son or daughter, a neighbor, a friend, an accountant, a police officer, etc.  But the tugging is still there.  The question remains.  Its inexhaustible.

Feel the pull.  It’s there for a reason.  Follow it.  Dare to answer the question.  At some point you’ll become bored or tired of creating with more adjectives.  You’ll find you’re left only with, “I am….[silence]“.

If you look at the long list you’ve produced to search for something you may have forgotten, something will happen.  You’ll realize what you’re looking at is a story.  A story of who you think you were, are, or want to be.  But the question is still tapping you on the shoulder, unanswered.  And it wants an answer.

In exhausting yourself, however, you’ve made some beautiful discoveries.  The story you’ve produced isn’t complete.  If you can be honest with yourself, you know intuitively this story isn’t true.  It was created by you.  And it’s utterly false.  You know this because You are reading the story.  Who is this reader?  Who is this You?

Welcome to the rabbit hole, Alice.  You’re about to go on the grandest journey of your life.  Without knowing it, you’ve already sipped from the bottle labelled “drink me” and you’re holding the golden key.  On this key is a tag, and it say, “I am…”.

“I am…[silence],” the last answer to your long list of who you are is the white rabbit.  Follow it.  Follow it the with ceaseless curiosity of a child.  But there’s one rule.  Regardless how tempting your experiences and discoveries, no matter how wondrous, don’t touch any of them.  Don’t sneak one into your pocket, for if you do, it will disappear into your story; the story which isn’t true.

Follow until “I am” begins to dissolve.  Don’t worry.  It won’t leave you alone and lost.  It’s taking you home.  “I am” will become “am”.  You’ll feel your Self growing and growing until no house can hold you.  Not even the house of your mind.  But don’t stop.  As long as you can see the rabbit’s tail, you’re not quite there.

Follow until “am” disappears.  Nothing at all remains.  Not even You.  There’s only the infinitude of the Truth, fully aware.  You have answered the questioned.  The pulling has ceased.  You are the living answer.

As you crawl out of the rabbit hole you’ll find that the fragrance of a vast abiding peace and love is all around you.  Look for its source and find it comes from you.  Eventually someone will ask you, “Who are you?” and you’ll find you can’t answer.  There are no words because the living answer can’t be spoken.  You can see it there in the eyes of the one who’s asking you; a curiosity ignited.  You’ll probably choose a line or two from that story you’ve written your whole life to satisfy the situation.  And that’s okay.  You know the Truth.  And we’re all a little mad here.

Yep.  That’s me.  I was a hoarder.  Not a hoarder of knick-knacks or cats.  No.  I was a hoarder of thoughts.  Sounds a bit strange, I know, but I’ll bet as you following my unburdening you will relate to it.

Ouch.  That’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?  To be likened to those horrific images of homes filled with discarded food containers, unwashed dishes, and stacks and stacks and stacks of stuff makes you squirm.  But, please don’t misunderstand.  I’m not trying to shed a judgemental light on those afflicted with hoarding.  What I am doing is identifying with how painful it is.  Stick with me here…

It’s true that I don’t fill rooms with accumulated things, but I’ve discovered that I have filled my head these past 50 years to the point where there is just no more room.  All these ideas, opinions, concepts and beliefs were practically dribbling out of my ears.  And it was more than uncomfortable.  It was painful.  Physically and emotionally painful.

It got so bad I found myself contemplating suicide often.  Now, before you shrink in horror or judgement, let me continue.  There was also something else working behind the scenes of my filled-to-bursting brain.  A magnetism, a force, that peeped over the top of and through the tiny gaps between the thoughts, and the misery, and the thoughts of misery.  Something whispering, “You’re missing something.  There’s something you’re not seeing.”

I’m driven by curiosity.  I thrive on it.  The gauntlet had been thrown down and that strange magnetic pull lit a fire inside of me.  I began digging through the mess and tangle of my crowded “house”.  At first, and for years and years, I expended a lot of energy and attention on each thing I encountered.  Crazy, right?  I mean, who in their right mind examines the garbage they’re tossing out?  Who obsesses over rotten banana peels and used tissues?  No one in their “right” mind does.

But this is what I did with every thought, every obsession, every belief I held and all the emotions associated with them.  Over and over and over.  Decade after decade.  And it was exhausting.  I gave up many times only to amass more “junk” and then start the process of garbage fondling all over again.  Yuck.  And I can tell you without hesitating this is what drove my misery to the point of breaking me.

And I celebrate that moment.  The moment where I was so fed up with whoever this train wreck of myself was that I put down the garbage, tore open my heart, and shouted to the ethers, “I give up!  I don’t want to be me anymore.  I just QUIT!”

And that’s when that strange but magnetic force reached out and touched the core of my tired mind.  It was like a cool fragrant cloth on a fevered brow.  The smell of rain after a drought.  Pure magic.  That’s when everything began to change.

I discovered that all I had to do was return that loving magnetic touch emanating from the core of me and all that junk just started to disappear.  Imagine if house work was so easy.  But it was.  I’ve stopped caring about any of the stories I had written in my mind.  Not about who I am or what I believe or what I thought about anything.  They’re all just stories.   Well, most of the stories anyway.  The emptying out is still going on.  I occasionally succumb to the old habit of fondling the garbage on its way out the door, but I quickly put it down and send it on its way.  It’s not important.

What’s truly amazing is the amount of space the removal of all this junk has left.  I can now stretch out in my mind without bumping into anything.  I can run, leap and dance without bruising myself.  It’s like my “house” is now filled with sunshine and the sweet smell of a grace I never knew existed.  It sure beats the stench of the garbage that was there before.  And what really excites me and keeps me holding hands with that wonderful force is the intuition that one day soon, not only will my “house” be swept clean, but the walls are coming down too.  I don’t need them anymore.

I know what this magnetic force is.  It’s my true self.  My completely natural state of being.  It’s what was there before my “house” was built and will remain long after it’s gone.  This is the real me.  Not all those ideas, stories and beliefs.  And this real me is so joyously spacious and so filled with unbreakable love that I can dance my way into infinity without ever suffering a bruise again.

So, yeah, I’m an ex-hoarder.  Even this story will be swept away soon.  For I am disappearing, or at least who and what I thought I was.  I am nobody and it feels so amazing.  I am nothing, yet here I am.  And I am free.

“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.” -Albert Einstein

Found on knowledgeoftoday.org – Albert Einstein – How I See the World

Ever notice how slippery the term “freedom” is?  It’s something we all value, think we have a right to, or are fighting for.  But what is it exactly?  What are free from?  To do what?  When were we not free?

We’ve been taught from birth that we aren’t free or that we must rely on someone or something else to ensure we can become and remain free.  This, unfortunately, isn’t a fact.  It’s societal programming.  I’m not saying it’s a plot or conspiracy and I’m not saying it isn’t.  It’s actually both, but that doesn’t matter.  What matters is that we’ve bought into this idea that freedom is either something we have a right to or something we must defend.  Freedom, even the concept of free will, remains contingent upon the externally-perceived world around us.  Even when it comes to matters of the subconscious.  The term “freedom” has become synonymous to the concept of an “other” in relation to a perceived “you”.

What if I told you that we are all free, right now in this moment, and always have been?  Would you believe me?  Please do.  Not only has this freedom always been present, it’s unchanging and unalterable.  We simply aren’t aware of it and that’s the irony.  The way to have it is simply to be aware of it.  Not intellectually, but experientially and the way to experience it is not to look outward at the world of “others” but to turn within.

Ask yourself who it is that’s free or not free?  If you reply, “me, of course,” then ask yourself who is this “me”?  Don’t answer it but look for what this “me” is.  Search inside for the place where this me lives; from where this thought of “I” arises.  See if you can find it. Is it even there or does it disappear when you inspect it?

It disappears.  The truth is, we can never find it.  Try it.  “I” is just an idea and a story we’ve been telling ourselves from the moment of birth.  Part of this story is that we are not innately free unless it’s given to us, taken, or allowed to us; that it’s something out there.  But if we continue searching inwardly for this me-idea, we’ll discover something quite amazing, something we’re so familiar with we forgot it was there:  our natural nature, our state of being.  Pure, peaceful, unadulterated awareness.

When this real “me” is discovered and experienced, an incredible liberation begins.  This natural state is immense, boundless.  Nothing disturbs it.  If we can be in this space it becomes easy to observe how our mind has entrapped us.  Thoughts and resulting emotions swirl around this unmoving peaceful place begging to be noticed, to be purchased, to be believed, but because this place of pure awareness is only the witness to all this, it’s unconcerned.  Unconcerned until we allow our attention to chase after these thoughts and grab onto them and allow ourselves to be dragged along behind to be shaken and bruised and beaten into believing they’re real again.  When we buy back into that, we suffer.  We lose clarity.  We blunder and stumble along through life.  We begin believing in and writing that story again and forget we’re really that which watches it all.

So, if it’s true freedom we desire, then the only way it can be had is to realize our true nature is freedom and nothing external to us can change that.  Try it.  It’s the single greatest gift we give ourselves.  It’s a gift that keeps on giving.  Revisit it every day, several times and as much as you can.  Eventually the light of this truth burns away the pages of your illusory story and the real you can live truly and irrevocably free.

The reason why people with differing beliefs tend to clash is this:  a belief is not Knowing.  Belief is intellectual and is the creation of your own ego regardless of how you arrived at it.  Nothing will defend itself to the death like the ego-mind, so it will raise up in defense of itself.  Examine a belief and accept the truth it brings you to, then release it.  The truth alone will remain and has no need to be defended.  It stands alone without effort.

“You cannot come to the edge of Peace.  There is just Peace…”  – Mooji

To know more about Anthony Paul Moo-Young, also known as Mooji, visit:  Satsang with Mooji

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me.

“What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said.  ”You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said.  ”You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right.”

“Well, all religions are right in their own way,” I said “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void.

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders.

“Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold.  You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.  You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me.

“But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.” And I sent you on your way.

map of the known Universe

Dear Kitty.  Some Blog has been so kind to nominate Moonlightened Way for the Thank You Award.

It’s such a delight to be appreciated!  So a million thank-you’s back to you!

The rules of this award are:

1. As usually a big thank you and a link back to the person who nominated you.

2. Mention 5 things you would like to do with your life, no matter how mad or tame.

3. Nominate six bloggers, link to them and say why they have left their mark on you. Hence the name “The Thank You Award”.

4. Let them know.

5. Say a big THANK YOU TO EVERYONE ON WORDPRESS!!

Five Things I Would Like to Do:

1)  Inspire someone.

2)  Finish and publish at least one novel.  (I have drafts, but… meh.)

3)  To know that I’ve in some way made a difference for the better in this world.

4)  Make friends with my own mind.

5)  Visit Ramana Maharshi’s ashram.

The Blogs I Nominate:

The Bard on the Hill – Dennis’s blog has led me to some of the most beautiful poetry in which I find my own inspirations.

Known is a Drop, Unknown is an Ocean - I enjoy the like-mindedness of this spiritual blog.  A wonderful source of information and inspiration.

Joy in the Moments – Charissa’s blog has been an inspiration to me as a writer.  It was because of Charissa that I pursued my first self-publishing venture!  Her blog is both informative and whimsical.

I realize this list is truncated but I haven’t been devoting as much time to blogging and I’m a little behind.

Thank you again and thank you to WordPress.

VESPERTINA by Greg Spalenka

I am not “just a woman”.  I am no more and no less a human being than a man.  My gender, my genitalia have nothing to do with the quality of my mind, my heart, or my soul.  Yet the societies I’ve lived in insist because of these things I am somehow less.

I know who I am.  I am That Which Is manifested in a body.  I am the same “That” which you are beneath and beyond the fabric of this body.  That which is the True Reality, that which is honored as the most sacred, the One.  The only thing that separates any of us is mere thought.  Just a thought.  Nothing more.  Yet some of these thoughts have caused more destruction than any weapon or any war because this thought is a time-honored lie:  a woman is less than a man.

This is because mankind is taught not how to think, rather taught thoughts to think.  These thoughts become repeated from generation to generation, without contemplation, and recited as absolute truths.  Many of them, such as this thought, are reinforced by holy men, governments, educational institutions, families and peers.  This is programming.  This is not truth.

A woman, a female human being, is only less-than a man because she’s been programmed to believe it.  Thankfully, historically, many woman have refused to buy into this lie and have contributed much to humankind.  Many more simply follow the customs.  So many more minds left stuffed in a cage because they are “less-than’s”.  How simply sad and wasteful.

To be viewed this way by others, as this “less-than”, is painful and it’s aggravating.  It can be debilitating.  But, the centuries of programming won’t change easily.  All we can do as women is be authentic and not fall victim to this mind-numbing lie that has been programmed into humanity.  We are not objects, we are not property, we are not less than anyone else unless we choose to agree.  We are not the source of all evil.  True evil lies between the ears not within a chromosome.

Stop and THINK.  I implore you.  As a woman, stop and THINK before you begin to define yourself as a “less-than”.  As a man, stop and THINK before you define a woman as something less than you are.  Just STOP.  And THINK.

And when you do, ask yourself how many more perspectives you hold are nothing more than thoughts you were taught.  How many more destructive lies do you believe that keep you and society repressed?

Reblogged from Soul Bulbs: