Good god, but I whine a lot and never give enough thanks for what I have.
It's the 'core story' of my life. You are just not good enough, and it's on a friggin' repeat button. Awareness and the laser light of 'truth' are the only tools to bring to this, and with 15 minutes to live, I see I don't have time to keep putting off my ultimate union with what is.
(I sit and breathe and honestly, if I had 14 minutes to live, I wouldn't write anything, I would only sit in conscious meditation.)
But I guess, if I had to write, and I am, then I just want to say 'wake the fuck up'. You are all so drowned out by your internal noise you can't see the reality sitting right there with you and holy crapola, you are your own suffering. Jumping jumping from one form of entertainment to another without a pause in any of it to appreciate what you've got in this very moment.
here, now, is all there is.. and with a very soft breathe, and soft awareness, you can flower, in this instant into Life.
I have ten minutes to live.
I don't have final words to say to anyone. I've already said what I had to say in the moment. I don't wish anything different than it was.
It's raining. I'd like to go down stairs and feel the rain on my skin and drench through my clothes and laugh in these last minutes. I would not write.
But... again, since I am writing, and committed, and pledged... the story that must come out is:
such a deep sadness creeping over my skin and penetrating into my flesh. Again, it is your blindness that suffocates me. I know it can not be another way. I know that what is, is, and if it could be different, it would, and there is nothing 'wrong' apart from my understanding, and yet, I feel such sadness when I see the hunched shoulders of people walking with heavy thoughts, as if their thoughts were all that they were.
I feel crushed when I see the lines of worry on people's faces, the fear they carry in their bodies.. and I if I had more time, perhaps I'd work harder at bridging that distance between you're fear and the reality of your inner self that is pure radiant life in all its glory.
Prisoners, walking in the cages of our minds. Nothing more, nothing less.
I have two minutes to live.
There is white light, a pillar of grace within each of us that connects us to every thing in the known and unknown universe. Your body knows it. The only one who doesn't, is your mind. If you pause, for just a moment, and just breathe, and feel, and be very soft and innocently curious, you'll feel it. Life, in you - and once you know that, you know everything.
I'm dead. The fifteen minutes are up.
(If you liked this post, you might prefer my other blog 'Being Human'. I try to keep this Catalan blog rather light, but the next thirty days could bring out some deep forms of expression, so if you didn't like it, come back in July!)
Photo: Tiffany Jones (Detail from Jett's drawing of me falling into a deep pit some years ago)
