I Believe In The Light

This morning, before dawn, I woke and saw through barely open eyes, a golden light. The light seemed to be coming through branches of a tree. My eyes opened as if by their own volition, and I realized I was looking at the floor lamp at the end of the couch. The lamp was off.

I believe such a light exists. I believe it is here, right where we (think we) are. I think the light is not a figment of imagination, nor synapses firing; I believe in the light.

We who dream we are no more than skin stretched over a collection of bones; we whose joy demands its opposite; we who believe in darkness...we are the offspring of this light!

And such peace! No opposite to this. Attendant to the light, but one with it. Yes, and it seems so still, yet a certain passion rides along with it; a passion for creativity, as this is its nature. To be creative; to dance the eternal dance.

I said the light seemed to come through trees, but it was not sunlight; and maybe the branches were symbols for our veiled vision. I recently practiced seeing this light "in" all the people, buildings, cars...What I saw cannot be put into words.

There is a Song. Somehow, it is not so that we cannot hear its melody. We simply shut off our hearing when we made these ears. The body's ears were made to hear a world that is not there, as the body's eyes were made to see that illusory world. We all know the Song.

The light faded as I opened the body's eyes, and saw the dark lamp shade. I was not disappointed, as I know by now that the light cannot go away. It is here, it is eternal, it is real. It was I who returned to the physical, as we always do, because we are convinced it is our home, when Home awaits in perfect patience.