Fog moved in while I slept.  I felt her coming so I closed windows and doors before I hopped into bed.  I’d been outside with the moon and stars, beacons and now the fog is a kiss, a soothing mist.  I know what it is to be a flower wet with dew that will lift.

I stayed in bed this Sunday morning; it was still dark. I opened and closed my eyes, played with reception, allowing what was here to come to me. 

Simplicity, noticing, opening, awareness.  What am I receiving?  And then, there was no separation; my hands rose, light.  

I considered the words that so affected Charlotte Selver when she heard them from Elsa Gindler.

“Do you feel the air through which you move?”

And in feeling the air, the weight of it, I thought, and “Do I feel the air that moves through me?”

And there I played, a dance of movement, air and me, relationship. Again, I was with the expansion I felt with my brother’s passing, doors opening until there are no doors; there are no walls.   

The words of William Blake came to me. “If the doors of perception were cleansed then everything would appear to man as it is, Infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern”.

Is that how I see? And perhaps for a moment there was a glimpse simply received.

And then the kitties called. It was breakfast time. After rising, feeding them, and watching water drip through a filter of coffee, and then, adding cream, I walked outside and was brought to the contemplation of non-duality, and these words of Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj from his book I Am That. 

Love says: ‘I am everything’. Wisdom says: ‘I am nothing’. Between the two my life flows.”

Between the two, my life flows.  

Cascade Falls in Fall

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