The writing that comes through me is puzzling at times. If feels like it is all over the board — definitely not a linear progression. Would be so much cleaner if it was .
I used to watch the ones who claimed to have found it and observing their calm presence, wanted to cross that finish line too. Now I realize there isn’t a finish line at all. Such ideas are sleight of hand, wants and wishes crafting something out of nothing, creating concepts of finished and unfinished and making them appear as possibilities … like everything else.
One day I write about awareness, as best I can, for who can actually put words to the wordless. The next day, or sometimes even the same day, I write about the human condition, the condition that a full-on recognition of awareness kinda wipes off the map … or at the least, seems to.
This morning I realized that this that comes through me, is quite naturally, the composite of my human-to-date (what a funny word … date) and timeless spaceless awareness … and it ministers to the dream. What else is there to minister to? Think about it? This I am, This we all are, is a wayshower, pointing the way to the exit door, a door that exists only in the dream, that is ever always experienced as awareness.
I could … well I really couldn’t since I don’t … stand outside the dream and wave, stay in my high heaven, rebuke the human, or stride straight into the dream, what some would call hell, and walk alongside you — the you that is me too.
Amaya is not immune to the forces of this world, to the ills of the body, to the horrible events that man perpetrates unknowingly against himself. If anyone says they are, it might be good to ask a few questions. Unfortunately, you generally don’t know which questions to ask until questions aren’t necessary.
I know you want me to say that isn’t so. Amaya wanted that too. At times, when I am slogging through dreamland I trip and fall, I forget what this is for a moment or two. That’s the risk of coming off heaven’s high horse to ride the short pony of human life.
And yet, not to do so, would be the true blasphemy — if such a thing exists. We are granted a human life — a precious in-body experience. We are given sunrises and sunsets, beginnings and endings. Why would we want to miss one breath of it?
There were times after Kenny died, that I only wanted out of here. So, I get it. But even then, deep inside the grief was a will to live, to love again, to hang around and watch the sunset as it slowly slips past my perception.
The trick seems to be not getting lost, not getting pulled into the dream and still living a full and engaged life as a human. It’s a lot easier once you know what This is, that what we are is awareness having a human experience, awareness creating and uncreating world upon world, creating time and space, playing experiencing knowing itself.
Sometimes you still get lost — for a moment, for an hour, for a day. There’s nothing right or wrong about it. It doesn’t matter whether you think you choose or not, or whether you forgive easily or hold a grudge for a while, or whether you truly know there is nothing and no one to forgive. Each is simply a different experience in duality.
Everything you experience is an experience in duality. That could be a new definition of duality — experience. Simple, eh? and no getting away from it.
What is aware — what sees through your eyes, feels through your senses? Awareness itself. You cannot not be Aware. From what I hear talking to beings who’ve left their bodies — awareness is the one constant. It is eternal, infinite, omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotence. Everything that appears to be arises out of Awareness.
We are the show and the projector, the screen and the movie, the menu and the feast, the map and the paper it’s printed on, all at the same time. How grand!
Thanks Kenny. Keep those cards and letters coming. So much love, dear one.
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. It’s actually much better than we can imagine. 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 … and she is. Love a paradox and life is nothing, if not paradoxical. 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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