He was never one to believe easily. He always needed proof. His immediate reality was his proof. There’s no way he could have known it would end like this. It didn’t seem fair really. An eternal hell they had told him. Flames and torture and all kinds of other nonsense. He knew that wasn’t true.
But this…this emptiness, this non existence, this place separated from life itself. This was simply beyond anything his mind could process. Did he even have a mind really? If I can think, I exist, he thought to himself. It was that moment of recognition that hurtled him towards true separation.
He awoke. Never before had he even known there was a choice, let alone a choice so clear. There was only life and not life. Life is better. He would choose it. He would live and serve. He would live to tell others about Life. That would be his existence forevermore.
Showing posts with label Emptiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emptiness. Show all posts
Monday, November 29, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
In the Mist of Emptiness
I have a young friend who is living in an undefined place in time and space. From the perspective of my friend there are wide open distant places, flashes of excitement, and the pull of worldly enticements. The space my friend is in seems big and full of life. At every turn there is someone beckoning with flattery, willing to play on my friend’s most basic needs and fears.
Then there are those of us standing just outside my friend’s space. We see a beautiful heart and soul shackled by chains in a swirling mist of emptiness and confusion. What my young friend sees as expansive and life giving we see as limiting and deadly. There is no truth in the place my friend is living. There is no reality in the place my friend is living. There is only nothingness masquerading as life.
My friend is living in a prison barely big enough to turn around in, but because my friend can’t feel the walls, there is no recognition of imprisonment. Because my friend only sees the mask of light that darkness wears, the true light has become a foreigner. Because my friend only sees true life as limiting rules, the true love of life is elusive and alien.
There is reality, there is life, there is light, just outside the prison walls and we want to set my friend free, but we have to proceed with care and caution. I want to take the sword to those who have willingly entered the prison to persuade my friend that their darkness is light, that their death is life. Yet there is a good chance my young friend will suffer damage in the battle and so we keep the swords in their sheath and wait patiently.
We do battle in the way that is least likely to cause damage, with unified prayers lifted to the heavens, with our own acts and words of love, and encouragement, and life, instead of the flattering words of damnation. My young friend is broken and hurt, but can’t embrace that reality to move past it. One way or the other love will have its way in my friend’s life. We all hope it is sooner rather than later.
The irony (as is often the case) is that those who are only acquainted with my friend, those who only know my friend in a peripheral way would never suspect there are shackles. The façade is complete. Eventually though the light will reveal the truth. The prison door will open and my friend will stumble out broken and in need. The only response we can have is love.
Then there are those of us standing just outside my friend’s space. We see a beautiful heart and soul shackled by chains in a swirling mist of emptiness and confusion. What my young friend sees as expansive and life giving we see as limiting and deadly. There is no truth in the place my friend is living. There is no reality in the place my friend is living. There is only nothingness masquerading as life.
My friend is living in a prison barely big enough to turn around in, but because my friend can’t feel the walls, there is no recognition of imprisonment. Because my friend only sees the mask of light that darkness wears, the true light has become a foreigner. Because my friend only sees true life as limiting rules, the true love of life is elusive and alien.
There is reality, there is life, there is light, just outside the prison walls and we want to set my friend free, but we have to proceed with care and caution. I want to take the sword to those who have willingly entered the prison to persuade my friend that their darkness is light, that their death is life. Yet there is a good chance my young friend will suffer damage in the battle and so we keep the swords in their sheath and wait patiently.
We do battle in the way that is least likely to cause damage, with unified prayers lifted to the heavens, with our own acts and words of love, and encouragement, and life, instead of the flattering words of damnation. My young friend is broken and hurt, but can’t embrace that reality to move past it. One way or the other love will have its way in my friend’s life. We all hope it is sooner rather than later.
The irony (as is often the case) is that those who are only acquainted with my friend, those who only know my friend in a peripheral way would never suspect there are shackles. The façade is complete. Eventually though the light will reveal the truth. The prison door will open and my friend will stumble out broken and in need. The only response we can have is love.
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