All is forgiven, even before it happens. The rest is just the string, playing itself out. When viewed through eyes of love, this string is like a glowing filament of clear white light, stretching on through infinity, connecting worlds of wonder, and also forming this cartoon world of seeming shapes and memories which we momentarily inhabit.

There is more to the truth than merely understanding the truth. There is more to the truth than the truth itself. There is always more. The truth is immune to all of our brilliant talk about truth. It couldn’t care less about any such noise. It doesn’t sit at the foot of that — if it’s really the truth it is already That. That which would understand and forgive reality is of the very same nature as reality itself, perpetually revealing itself to itself, marvelously empty and mysteriously full, beyond any need of understanding, beyond any need for our forgiveness.

A frosty serpentine cloud of moisture has wrapped itself around the moon, yet even now evaporates in the blaze of that reflected light. So too all words and images contained therein, though lit by a furnace of night’s imagination, silently pale in the day’s clear light, outshone by the dawning sun of forgiveness.

What has never have been interrupted resumes its natural disposition, freely unburdened by any fanciful gesture of forgiveness or its lack. Hitching a ride on the slippery eels of wry imagination, the forgiver is nothing other than forgiveness itself, un-implicated by any actual person who dreams that they can grant it. Nevertheless, as long as there is the assumption of anything or anyone in need of forgiveness, the string of forgiveness must play itself out.

Every being is looking for love, just as love is looking for itself, both in and through every being. It is love which forgives and forgets itself, the same love which remembers itself anew through every act of forgiveness. Love is the radiant beautiful god that only wants to feel and know itself through us. Only love at last is true, and since love has already forgiven itself, so can I, and so can you.


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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2 Responses to Forgiveness

  1. Hariod Brawn says:

    Quite exceptional, Bob. The best that I’ve read in a long time, from anyone.

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