The game of life and death

Sometimes I wonder why this world is as fucked up as it is. It is pointless wondering, I'm well aware of it. And yet I wonder. I can't help it. I am by nature made to improve things, systems, myself. I am both good at it and enjoy it; the visionary who's walking with her head in the clouds and her two feet firmly on the ground. The questions usually are, does it work? Is it an improvement? Does it hurt anyone?

I think the basic problem of this world is our inability to communicate our experience. We live isolated in our heads, thinking our reality and experience is the only valid one. The result is pain, loneliness, fear. We can't see others as another version of ourselves. We can only focus on our differences, not our similarities. We see enemies where there is no enemy.

Art is the only way I have discovered to bridge the distance between one human experience and another, one human being and another. Art and love creating connections that surpass everything, distance, even time. Art is a child of love anyway, inflaming our hearts and minds with the closest there is to experiencing divinity. And love both flourishes on kindness and creates more kindness.

I wish I could take every human being by the hand and strip them of fears, and silly pride, and anger, and regret, and naked and vulnerable take them to the place inside where no armour is needed. To that one place where they are safe, and accepted for everything they are, and the only entrance rule is to let go of control, stop struggling. I can't do that any more than I can give eyes and ears to a stone. Each person has to find that place for themselves. It's not found in a church, or a holy place, or another dimension. You don't have to cross the sea or climb a mountain. You have to reach inside, to touch the unblemished part of you that everyone has. The part that knows it's all good, and there is nothing to forgive, and you are safe. You have always been safe because you are pure energy, you are stardust dreaming of falling in love, and to do that you need a body. That is all. You have always been perfectly safe and every transgression, imaginable and real, every slight and trespass is forgiven because it was a dream. You are stardust dreaming, and for a single moment in time, believing it. Believing it so much that it was real. There was no true separation, no real otherness, no alienation; just a part of the whole relishing its uniqueness before merging again, before becoming energy and love. 

I wish I could make you see that. But in order to let go of control, to stop struggling, you have to love yourself first. And only you can do that. 

           (If you'd like to support me, please buy me a coffee.)