And dream baby dream
For soon you will awaken in the sunlight
Grow baby grow
And know baby know
That you are ever bathing in the One Light…”
Where is it written that my life began anywhere? Was it in the softness of my mother’s womb? Was it in the hospital where I slid reluctantly into a hard world? Did my beginning happen when I began to shape thoughts and ideas in my mind? Did I begin when I realized I wanted something different from what my parents struggled and sacrificed for?
Did my beginning happen when I cried out to the Maker of life “Where do I belong?” Did it begin when an answer came in the heart of a man who felt like my other half? Was I born in that love that we shared? Or did my real beginning occur when he left this world and flew beyond the realm of my five senses. Did a new existence begin in that struggle to fly with a broken wing? Was I born in the reflection I saw when my tears fell uncontrollably to the ground? Perhaps my life evolved out of those tears and transformed itself into songs and poetry. Perhaps it was in hope itself that I sprang into existence.
I meditate on this question for years. More and more a garden blooms in and around me. I accept the continuing journey. I no longer define myself by anything outside of myself. Everything is always changing and becoming, breaking down and becoming again and again. More and more the fear of the unknown dissipates and is replaced by a feeling that there is an umbilical chord beyond the one that fed me in a womb of flesh. This chord stretches beyond beginning and end. There are no words or pictures to describe this feeling of timelessness. My mind is sometimes like a child who cowers helplessly behind old beliefs and other times exuberant with arms raised ready to be lifted to a higher state of being. Where all things are One, how can there be a beginning? Where all things are one, how can there be an end?
“…Yes everything inside of us
reveals itself one day
And by asking we receive the Truth
And then it comes our way…
Oh laugh baby laugh
And cry baby cry
For the world is but a grand stage
That we borrow…”