We will never find tranquility, peace, lasting happiness within duality, except for the moments or two when the illusion of equanimity is part of the unfolding expression. It, like all things in separation, is fleeting, appearing like a little child, waving her hand, a big broad smile lighting up her face, whispering follow me, catch me if you can.
Maybe that’s why this feels like a pre-school planet.
When peace arrives, we associate what we were doing at the time, the thought we were thinking, the practice we were undertaking, the person we were with, and in an effort to hang onto the fugitive sighting, we do more, cling more, attempt to control more, scrambling after it, like a pup after a bird that has already taken flight.
That’s how the game works. If you like it, carry on. There is lots to like about life. Its ups are pretty grand while they last. Even the downs aren’t always a downer. They can be illuminating rip-torn fascinations.
Well … actually … you don’t get to decide. If part of the dream holds allure, there for sure will you find your bed, or at the least, a place you visit. Life will pull you back in regardless of how well you dig in your heels so you might as well lift them up and go along willingly.
It’s neither a bad, nor a good thing. It’s just the cards as they are dealt here on planet Earth. Life will always demonstrate the inner state through the outer display.
Equanimity can only be found outside of the game. All expressions of life are found within the holy hologram most see as a material world — fun precocious wild wooly sorrowful loving angry happy … all of them — that’s the game. Seeing through the ruse of personal sovereignty to the heart of it, priceless and inevitable.
The sovereignty that sees is not the human eye, the separate individual. We only think we see. We believe we see, feel, and sense our experience. What actually experiences life is divine awareness, the sacred I Am, this which each of us calls I without recognizing ‘this I am’ is truly the revered grail, the aim of the seeker.
What a trickster of a grand design! The eye that sees is I Am. God, hiding in plain sight, as me and you!
Awareness experiences all that is experienceable through the holy portal of perception … the essential spillway of sensation … the pristine fountainhead of feeling … the thoroughfare of creative thought.
We call that I and then take it a step further, placing our trust and faith in our autonomy … and then spend the rest of our life trying to find our way home, to find tranquility, peace and happiness amid the illusion of aloneness.
When we have evolved to the degree that we can move mountains, perhaps then we will be able to control the next thought, the next sensation, feeling, and perception — the ever so convincing evidence that props up our belief in our autonomy — but why would we want to?
Life flowing through unimpeded offers perfection just as it is, not perfection as minds define it, but a grander, more all-inclusive perfection. When we have no need for life to be otherwise it tends to rearrange itself in mysterious ways, offering up a full range experiential, the whole holy deal, an experience perfect for us!
Until then, until the evolution of absolute understanding — heart and mind, soul and body — the harbingers we call life simply arise, born of motion that loops relentlessly endlessly preciously with each new movement of awareness.
Who knows what will appear next, what feats of magic we are already capable of, what delights are queued up waiting to be experienced? Who knows? Not I. Isn’t that delicious?
There is no appropriate bio for Amaya Gayle. She doesn’t exist other than as an expression of Consciousness Itself. Talking about her in biographical terms is a disservice to the truth and to anyone who might be led to believe in such nonsense. None of us exist, not in the way we think. It’s actually much better than we can imagine. Ideas spring into words. Words flow onto paper and yet no one writes them. They simply appear fully formed. Looking at her you would swear this is a lie. She’s there after all, but honestly, she’s not … and she is. Love a paradox and life is nothing, if not paradoxical. Bios normally wax on about accomplishments and beliefs, happenings in time and space. She has never accomplished anything, has no beliefs and like you was never born and will never die. Engage with Amaya at your own risk.
