Centuries to get here . . . .

There are those of us who are sensitive to our inmost thoughts and often we consider them nightmares.  A favorite writer tells of his dreams that leave him unanchored.  They take his equanimity and disable him.  Like his, my journey for years left me with events that had no putting place.  Our memory banks are similar.  Children with bloated bellies and tears and clenched fists.  Sacrifices and incense and swords and hot sands in strange places.

I would suggest the library with its Metaphysical shelves as study for the saints and souls who trudge the inward path.  Books were my support because I did not find an Other to match my  path.  I could not share my nightmares with an Other whose survival depended on their soup bowl not being broken.

Who would understand falling into a limitless depth with shrieking voices on the way to sleep to be caught by strong arms and lifted into Light?  And when doors opened within the brain to hear music drifting with arias never concluded and the noisy games in the gym forever unending?  I am a generation older than the writer and it has taken a lifetime of footwork to realize it is a gift given.

There are reasons and all not brought to satisfying conclusions yet.  Enough though for this world with our finite brains to show others have  journeyed and written  to let us know they have gone the route.  Religions have not focused on the larger picture. Their eventuality will be the absorption into a greater spiritual reality. They are appropriate for this planet and its peoples on diverse paths with more narrowed focus and needing support.

The larger picture requires a stretching of the psychic muscles that seem to embrace what is considered bizarre.  Only so because trying to pull the greater picture through the narrow aperture distorts the vision.  Other world experience cannot be drawn into this physical reality with its boundaries.  They belong in the world they were dreamed.  You travel centuries to remember them.  Research them; you are special.  They are earned glimpses so take pride in your journey.  It has taken enormous courage.

Life Everlasting. . .

Without ears to hear, he hears.
Without eyes to see, he sees.
With heart he understands
the small musings
of this limited mind.

I can see, I say for this is mine. . .
only with how I perceive
this limited existence.

Fair enough,
for this time, I think,
but only for this time.
There will be other times
when it will not be enough. . .

And then I grow
unto his splendor. . .
I will be guided  unto his doorway
and I will be led . .

And again, I will find
my way home.
Again, I will be led
and there will never be
a final time. . .

It only begins, here and now
and again it will be

time to move on.