What Would I Change?

By Amaya Gayle Gregory

What would I change if I could? You and I both know I can’t, but it’s a fun exercise anyway.

I would have been less of a know-it-all on my spiritual journey. It seems to be a side-effect of the path. Spiritual folks develop an all-knowing buffer to protect against their inevitable surrender to the unknown, but understanding that now didn’t make it gentler on me or those I loved, let alone those that I deemed not capable of getting it 😉 Yeah … I’d have dropped the spiritual snob act.

I’d have recognized that spiritual radicals are only different on the outside from radical right Christians, and that the surface doesn’t really matter as much as I thought. We are all doing our couldn’t be otherwise things, playing our perfect roles.

I’d have learned to bow down humbly before my fellow man, regardless of whether I agreed with him or not. We’re all in this together and not one of us will get out alive. Our differences spice up the stew, making life worth living. My judgement was always about me, never about the objects of my attention.

I’d have been gentler with myself instead of beating myself mercilessly for not getting it, for the mistakes I thought I made. I wouldn’t have thrown myself under the God bus quite so often. Perhaps if I hadn’t felt the need to self-flagellate, I wouldn’t have been so hard on all the people in my life.

I would have slowed down. A week before he died, Kenny told me to slow down. I thought I had, but boy was I wrong. I was in a hurry to wake-up, to cross the finish line. I see the fallacy now and how much ease the need to go fast stripped from my life.  I can’t even imagine what it was like to live in the shadow of this spinning tornado.

I would have said I’m sorry, I love you, I care about you, to more people, more often, to life itself. I would have said it and meant it. I would have said it to myself as well, for I was always the last person I loved.

What would you change?

Really, I wouldn’t change anything. It was all perfect in that it brought me, and you, this we appearing as us, to this moment. Yes. It was hard. It was heart-breaking. What I’d change isn’t as much about me as it is about all the people I interacted with, all the folks in my inadequacy that I judged inadequate. Seeing me and you for what we are changes everything.

I’m sorry.

You are important to me.

You are important, so much more than I ever knew.

I bow humbly to our exquisite uniqueness.

I love you … and me.

They really are right, those folks who say you can’t love others until you love yourself. It seems to take finding out there are no others, not even a you, not even a me, before you see the precious beauty in all life, in the miracle that there is anything here at all.

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.  Amaya Gayle is the author of Actuality; infinity at play, published by New Saram Press. https://amzn.to/3Rd4CTY