reply to post by midicon
Midicon sat and reflected. He thought about the ‘now’, he thought about the nature of the ‘now’. He thought about how it was here, had always
been here, he saw how it could be no other way.
He thought about the ‘beginning’ and of how it had begun. He thought about ‘I am’, he saw the necessity of ‘I am’ and how the creation of
‘I am’ had created division. He saw how division had created beginning.
He thought about what he had written and the words he had sent out. He had been calling, wake up, think, pay attention and he saw now, he had been
calling to himself.
He thought about love, and the nature of love. He saw how ‘I am’ tried to hold love, tried to keep love, tried to bridge his separation from
love, with attachment to things, impermanent things. He saw how ‘I am’ never realized the impermanence of himself.
He thought about the ‘companion’, he thought about the ‘dear old friend’, he thought about the ‘silent watcher’ and he saw how they were
all one and the same.
Midicon’s thoughts seemed to go round in a circle. He thought about the ‘now’, he thought about the stillness of the ‘now’. He thought about
the space in between, between here and there. He saw there was no space between here and there. He thought about movement. He thought about non
movement, he saw how movement had created division. He saw how division had created ‘I am’, he saw how ‘I am’ had created division.
He thought about all the words that he had written, his every gesture, every sound, ever since his own beginning he had been calling to himself.
He thought about love, and the nature of love. He thought about ‘conditional love’, ‘unconditional love’, ‘self love’ and ‘real
love’. He saw how love could not be compartmentalized, categorized, divided or subdivided. Love would always be love.
He thought about the ‘old friend’, the ‘dear friend’ the one who always has been here. He was his ‘old friend’ and your ‘old
friend’ he had always been the same.
Midicon’s thoughts went round again, but as he did so he became aware of something, something outside of himself, outside of his attention. There
was an ‘approach’ a sense of something coming near, but he did not turn to it. An insight, an intuition, something gained from knowledge perhaps,
told him that any diversion of attention, any turning towards this ‘approach’ would immediately dispel it. He ignored it but within him there was
a spirit of acceptance and welcome.
He thought about the ‘now’ and the timeless nature of the ‘now’. He saw how time had been born of movement and how time creates division, how
division creates ‘I am’ and how ‘I am’ creates division. He saw the necessity of ‘I am’ for the purpose of reflection and how the nature
of reflection would facilitate awareness. He saw the endless circle of things.
He thought about himself and he thought about the world. He saw that they were both reflections of each other. What he gave to the world, the world
gave to him and what the world gave to him, he gave to the world.
He thought about love and the nature of love. He saw how love can never be defined. He saw how words could not describe the ultimate truth of love
and how words can’t describe anything in itself. All he could say about love was, love is.
Midicon thought about the ‘old friend’ the ‘dear friend’ the ‘companion’ and as he did so he once again became aware of something,
something outside of himself or inside of himself, he could not say which, but this time the approach was followed by a ‘touch’. He did not feel
fear, he had not thought of fear, fear is born of thought and his thoughts had been elsewhere. He felt warmth, he felt recognition and friendship,
Midicon felt love. He was embraced by love, he was uplifted by love and he was filled with love. There was no self surrender, or annihilation of self,
instead there was freedom, elation and joy. Midicon was love and love was Midicon. He was transfixed by love, he was transported by love and he
transcended. There was only love and love was eternal.
Some time later Midicon returned to himself. He did not know how much time had passed. He had not expected this, nor had he sought this, if he had it
would not have happened. He ‘composed’ himself. His face felt warm, he touched it and it was wet, he realized he had been crying, was still
crying. The mighty Midicon, all knowing, self knowing, impregnable fortress that is Midicon had been weeping like a child. He could still feel the
‘old friend’ behind him, beside him, all around him but he did not turn to him, he knew he would be overcome. For the remainder of the evening
Midicon tried to keep his thoughts away from what had occurred. Any thought of it, any attention to it seemed to result in tears. He did not know why
this was but he sensed or knew that a change had been wrought in him. Eventually Midicon retired and went to bed. He fell fast asleep, and in his
sleep he dreamed of death and rebirth.
For the next three days Midicon could not think of this event without tears filling his eyes. He tried to speak of it to someone but had to stop and
turn away ashamed of his tears, he could only say ‘something has happened to me’. A week has passed now and the impact has finally lessened. He
can now turn his thoughts to it and try and make sense of it. Perhaps in some way he was not ready for this.