Expanding in Butterfly Consciousness

Caterpillar Self lived a limited existence
The world accepted her meager body
And fed her scraps of life and leaves
She marveled at the beauty of the flowers
And climbed a few just to see what else waited
She worked hard on herself
She pushed her little aching body
To the farthest reaches of her little garden
She entertained caterpillar friends
Listened to caterpillar music
Worked a caterpillar job
But silently at night she would cry
Her heart pounded in her little chest
A great cascading Dream called to her
She called back to the Dream
A feeling of flight and colors stirred
A sensation of indescribable expansion
Just when she felt she would burst in this joy
Just when she felt it was too much to hold
A miraculous event began to weave itself
Within herself
Around herself
Out of herself
For an instant she thought she saw herself as a flower
In that moment Butterfly Self laughed
And thought she remembered herself as a little worm.

Ganga Fondan, 2009

Meditation on the third proclamation:

"Individual Consciousness is the creative force. My Consciousness is the Creator. " - Tulshi Sen, "Ancient Secrets of Success for Today's World"

Coming home from a local pub last night, I could not wait to start working on this post. Listening to the lively expressive sounds of the band onstage (Gibbran)I suddenly felt everyone around me as an actor or as later depicted "caterpillar". I saw an old life of mine flitting around me there in that place serving and laughing and dancing and socializing and drinking and eating. I had participated in that life for a long time while struggling all the way towards something better. I could feel the urge of the singer to sing the songs he had writen rather than the cover tunes that the audience demanded. I looked at the hightop runners of the waiter who ran his heart out for the crowd that gathered. I observed the animated faces of those sitting around me completely engrossed in their desire to let loose and connect. I remember that drunken state of animation very well. Last night something inside just wanted to sit still and observe the entire scene as a piece of myself. How can I explain this? I saw an aspect of myself in everyone there: the singer,the bartenders, the waitstaff, the men staring into the sports scenes on screens, the women readjusting their hair and clothes after a dance, the slow intense slur of those have had a bit too much of things on the menu and those which are not. It felt marvellous to witness. It felt pitiful. It felt alarming. It felt peaceful.

Something new in me stirred.
It felt alive and ready.
What now?

My Consciousness creates.
The new garden awakens and offers the nectar of endless flowers.

Ganga