A
significant dream
Who
is God hiding from in this masquerade?
From
us, but who are we? We seem to be
God
on the roam, detached from the Source.
It’s
all a pretense, a puppet show,
a
storybook read to drum up romance
and
valor, heartache and grief;
playthings
to imitate the Real;
to
stir up a child’s wonder.
O
child of God! Christ the King,
the
Avatars and Saints,
Sadgurus
and Perfect Ones –
their
stories, parables, examples and games
hint
at and further hide the wordless Truth.
Throughout
the green countryside
the
white horse roams in the illusion
and
exhilaration of freedom
but
then dutifully returns each evening
to
the quiet, settled comfort of His stable.
O
child of God, existence (said Meher)
is a significant dream
pointing to the One Reality.
A
matter of actuality
Each
drop soul treads its particular path;
impossible
for each to judge fairly
their
fellow wayfarer’s
choice
of pace and direction.
Divorced
from God’s perspective,
the
drop soul sees only
diversity
and multiplicity
and
is veiled from the Oneness.
The
Creator, by contrast, sees only Truth
and
recognizes the perfection
in
every atom of His Creation
with
no existent comparison available –
everything
in every moment being perfect
just
the way it is, just the way it is.
O
child of God, Truth is not a matter of comparison
but of actuality, clarity
and insight.
(painting by Mark Hodges)
Soak
yourself
After
You returned to this world
from
where Babajan’s kiss had taken you
(where
You realized forever
You
were the One without a second)
You
spent a great deal of time in seclusion –
in
various caves, cabins, hilltops and crypts.
My
life is now finishing up
in
a karmically constructed
seclusion
of sorts; it reveals to me
that
I have spent the entirety of my days
in
a seclusion within my skull, behind my eyes,
a
refuge and prison of flesh, fear and falsity;
a
lifetime of solitude
without
ever having been alone –
You
having been always with me, awaiting
the
destined moment of our inevitable reunion.
O
child of God, cease trying to solve the Mystery.
Instead soak yourself
in it head to foot.
Rough
on yourself
I
was rough on God in my youth,
proud
and brittle, unforgiving.
A
God who dared to reign imperially
over
this sad, chaotic world
(into
which I was dropped without my consent).
A
world of consequences –
fear,
pain, struggle and grief.
Now
my Lord is telling me (in His silence)
to
live these latter days in childlike abandon;
each
shimmering morning open myself up
to
go where God and the day will take me.
My
days are dimming now, numbered and subdued.
He’s
urging me to take
just
what I am given, what I am due,
to
yield and accept, to receive and not invent –
without
judgment, analysis or desire.
O
child of God, don’t be so rough on yourself.
You are His ever-holy
creature and creation.
