Confessing To Everything

Only lately do I realize I was never a child. Childhood came upon me, just as this age does now. When childhood came, I had no sense of it being any different. It was just that now I was a child. What was I before? I didn’t even think about it. What is there to think about?

First here we are. How amazing! We don’t know what that is, where that is, then the world appears in the form of the body, and now the light seems to come from everywhere, the beautiful light, making everything shine. I want to race up to the sky, it is so close, the endlessness of blue!

Later came the night, so dark and deep. It might be that we are afraid at first. The night came upon us and we were left to our thoughts. Were they even ours — the thoughts, the memories, the secret feelings that pressed upon us in our sightlessness, that we were alone, all alone?

When the world came upon us, it seemed to fill us up, but we didn’t know then how deep we were, how wide. We could hold all the worlds, as if they were grains of sand in our hand when the beach came upon us, and we stood in silence as we gazed out over the sea. In our hearts, we confessed to everything, but without the words. We never needed the words anyway.

Ah, the sea came upon us, but it was only a drop within our spaciousness, just as the whole universe turned like a song on our tongue. Maybe it was a ball in our hand, the vastness we can’t even name. We juggled with our thoughts, which were not ours, but God’s, because the God we are can feel the totality as a wonderful body that comes upon us. What a feeling, we wanted more, and so the universes keep expanding, more than the bubbles on the foam of the seashore!

Astonished, we swim through our body as if we are mindless minnows in the bloodstream of a magnificent something, something so familiar we forget what we were thinking, even as we stand at the ocean’s edge and watch ourselves rush in and then recede. We let the feet of this body sink into the cool wet sand. Ecstasy!

This is the way that childhood came upon me, the way it comes upon every creature, even the ones we cannot yet see, because we are so preoccupied with moving about and getting the things we thought we wanted, even if we no longer really do.

Just so, when we suffer, we never actually do, because suffering comes upon us like the wind comes up and then dissolves back into itself on an otherwise calm and quiet day. Maybe we fell in love on that day, who can say? If we could be that calm, all of our suffering would be seen as love, or what still is waiting to recognize itself as love.

If I say that love came upon me, that is true, but no, love doesn’t come or go. When whatever comes upon us falls away, there is still love, but not the word for it, just what it is, before and after. I shouldn’t even say that. Why complicate? We are confused enough, because we wanted it all, and so it came upon us, this life, this feeling of being, and now here it is, and we are in love with it, but we don’t know why.

Isn’t it true? We love it all more than we understand it, because when understanding comes upon us, we might think that we are now the knowers of things, and so confuse ourselves even more. Don’t try to understand love, just be it. That is all.



About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
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