I have learned that turning inward is my only option. It is my only chance at having any sort of mental relief from the constant battle of ‘being in the world but not of the world.’ I don’t look forward to the inward journey because it is excruciating and terrifying. Excruciating and terrifying are words that only scratch the surface of what this is like. What I have chosen to face is brutal. Actually, I didn’t choose it, it was only that I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
Today, as I set aside time to go inward, the white light started happening. I’m no longer surprised by it, but I still have lingering resentment. I never asked to have this perception. I don’t like it. It does not comfort me. I wish it would go away, but there it is. The light that surrounds us all. It washes over the illusion of the world and all that is left is Love. Today I saw clearly that I am the dreamer of the dream. My whole life flashed before me. I could see it from my tiny self’s perspective as well as from those of other tiny selves that I know. After some time of watching the dream unfold, I came back to my tiny self. I returned to the tiny self who was sitting in a chair unsure if the present moment was real or if the dream from which she came was real. Both seemed wrong. Both seemed like illusions.
This being here or there or not really anywhere is so confusing.
So, inward I go.
Answers may come or they won’t.
It doesn’t matter.
It’s okay if I don’t know for sure. Love knows I’m open. Love knows I’m trying.
Love isn’t going anywhere.