The pain body of
the world is in the hands of
the hundredth monkey.
It took me a while to realize not everyone came here for the same reason. Not everyone loves love. My father certainly didn’t. He did love, but he demonstrated how it was not love that he loved but its echoes, its reflections, its shadows. The building blocks of space and time and companies.
What do I mean when I say ‘loves love’? I see it as a pointing of the limited self toward the limitless one. Is there a ‘limitless one’? Just by allowing the possibility something opens, knives are put away, masks are dropped. Breathing eases. It has confused me that so many resist the marvel of this. My father never put away his knives.
It was also confusing to me to see my father throw himself into anger. As a child, when I heard him beat my mother in the other room and as an adult when we worked together on our multi-million dollar company. With his anger he laid his claim, spiking it into the ground or anyone who got in his way. He wasn’t one of the meek but he did intend to inherit the earth.
According to one body of thought, the Soul moves out into the ends of creation on a radio-like wave, experiencing everything possible. At some point it finishes all it intended, then rides back into the center of creation, where it takes on greater riddles. I see that many in the life around me also do not love love for itself, the sign of those returning. Many here seem to have chosen to stay, embracing a version of life that leans heavily on the will and shies away from wisdom.
There is a saying in business, ‘sell to the masses live with the classes, sell to the classes live with the masses’. (This is probably of Jewish origin. It’s got a kind of ‘backs to the wall’ feel to it, very common in business and in the history of the ‘chosen’.) I didn’t realize that wanting to live with the classes would become an all-out attempt to mute the call of my soul. Nor did I appreciate the subtlety of it all. The class was indeed in session – Hide and Seek 101.
Even then my breath was pacing my free will. With each breath in I hid something. With each breath out, I would seek it.
In my father’s yelled words it was ‘all about the money’. But that wasn’t it at all. The money I found ended up totaling less than six pence in the increasing light of the radiance of the moon. And even that vanished by dawn. The sleight of hand of the sorcery of the ego.
As they say in England when getting on a train, ‘mind the gap’. It’s as wide as a thought fused with a desire, and the thought is widening. The ground beneath our feet is not what it once was. Love is on a journey. Pack light. Tunnel ahead.