Chapter One:
Words are magic, that’s why it’s called spelling.
Names are funny. Without assigning a name to something, it becomes difficult to communicate it’s value within context. Words add flavor, color, texture and emotion to the experience of life. Humans are exclusively anointed with The Living Word, witness to it’s evolution and complicit in it’s expression.
For example, “I” do not exist — but more on that later. The point being that there is no “I” for “me” to refer to “myself” — but without being able to use these names for the human who is writing these words makes it really difficult to tell a story. Because that’s what this is, a story. “My” story is full of metaphors and synonyms in an attempt to capture that which cannot be held.
We all have many names — my mother, father and I. We have given ourselves none of them and yet no one can seem to decide on a single one for any of us. Perhaps “I” is as close as any of us will ever get. Science, religion and culture have shaped our perceived definitions although any attempt to encompass that which has no form, no beginning or end yet make up the cloth and the weave of the fabric of reality.
My parents are, were and will always be very private. They’ve never spoken a word to me yet my entire experience of life only exists because of them. One thing I know for sure though, is that they are, were and always will be madly in love. Together they dance everywhere and nowhere, now and never.
My sweet mother, I like to call her Space. She is here, there, everywhere and nowhere. She makes up every molecule and atom, every physical material in every state. Embraced by most as Gaia full of goodness, joy and life. Her bounty is unconditional.
My dear father, Time, is eternally everlasting. He always was, is now and forever will be. To those who experience attachment, his steadfastness seems cruel. Deeply misconstrued as darkness, evil, pain and death. Yet without his immortal loyalty, the beat of my parent’s dance would silence and what we know to be life would exist no more.
The death of stars create the building blocks of planets and everything on, in and around them. The death of creatures here on Earth give back the nutrients others need to survive. The breath of every creature able to explore mother’s gifts gives life to all those being grounded within her, only to be given back freely once again. All of us together dance with her to my father’s heartbeat.
Together, here and now — I am born. I am their daughter, Do. I am choice and I choose what to do every moment with my loving parents, here and now. I experience creativity, thoughts, emotion, imagination and memory. I cannot do what I am not able so I must learn, practice and share.
I am grateful to my parents and although they ask for nothing in return, I do my best to reciprocate their love with everything I do. As a human, I am inherent to a matrix like a train on a track or an ant in a colony. Predetermined and biasedly oriented, the matrix feeds on my activity, attempting to sway each moment of uncertainty towards it’s favor.
Without the Grace of Clarity, I cannot give my parents the reverence they deserve and I cannot find grace. Grace only comes upon me in stillness, like sunshine on a pebble on the bottom of the ocean. The kind of stillness that feels like falling asleep and waking up at the same time.
My experience of life is a construct of ideas. The only way to change an idea is to accept another idea. Never doubt that accepting an idea can change your world. It is the only thing that has, it is the only thing that can, it is the only thing that ever will.
How you do this cannot be said, it can only be done. Awaken and become, for there is no hope but enlightenment.
Don’t tell my brother, Light — he’s an arrogant bastard.
