When your heart is breaking it feels like the pieces will never fit together again. They won’t, not in the same way. That’s is an unavoidable consequence of life. The breaking always leaves cracks, spaces where the light of loss pours itself into the world and what a gift that is!
You don’t let the light in. When you break open, it’s not that the light can finally reach you, that you have been somehow estranged from it. Your breaking makes it possible to realize that the light is always present, is presence itself, and you could never be without it, for you, and the seeming brokenness, are it.
Why do wounds seem to be required? I don’t know, but if I had to guess I’d say that being cracked open breaks our tight hold on the world, on what we think and believe. It forces a schism, rupturing the veil wrapped tightly around the sense of self and sets it free, even if just for a moment.
Humans are adept at band-aiding the appearance, slapping another belief on top of the one that just fell apart. Disasters, whether a collective one like Maui, a war raining its firebombs, or the much more personal ones like the death of a loved one, or the death of one’s bank account, do that. They disrupt the white knuckle status quo.
The overwhelming majority of folks have one, a status quo that’s their personal version of what is and what isn’t, what’s allowed and what’s not, what’s wanted and needed, and what should be avoided at all costs. It seems to be the way the world works, for most.
The status quo is taken apart one experience at a time, one breath, one disaster, one loving touch, one broken heart … and it isn’t a bad thing at all, even though it feels quite different when you are swimming in loss. It is life life-ing, love loving, God Godding. It’s This We Are realigning itself with the actuality. That’s what life is — the absolutely sacred, totally ordinary realignment.
It really doesn’t matter if you recognize what’s happening here or not. It’s still happening. You are still being unwound, set loose from the tightly held, always changing, never quite the same idea of reality. It may not seem that way, but that’s part of the delight, the divinely played game of hide ‘n seek.
There is no appropriate bio for Amaya Gayle. She doesn’t exist other than as an expression of Consciousness Itself. Talking about her in biographical terms is a disservice to the truth and to anyone who might be led to believe in such nonsense. None of us exist, not in the way we think. Ideas spring into words. Words flow onto paper and yet no one writes them. They simply appear fully formed. Looking at her you would swear this is a lie. She’s there after all, but honestly, she’s not. Bios normally wax on about accomplishments and beliefs, happenings in time and space. She has never accomplished anything, has no beliefs and like you was never born and will never die. Engage with Amaya at your own risk.
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