Be. Here. Now. Experience. Awareness. Consciousness. Knowing. Presence. Love. Isness. This.
Same, same … no difference.
No thing and all there is.
Nothing but experiencing — no one to experience — no thing to experience — simple knowing awareness doing it’s thing — slang expression — not a true thingy. Haha.
Not tens of thousands of little things arising in a bazillion awarenesses but basic Thisness, simple experiencing.
We think — assume — that we are the pinpoint of awareness that we experience life through, and that others are doing the same and therefore are what we assume ourselves to be.
We couldn’t be more wrong … on both counts.
Where do I end and you begin? If we are indeed separate, there has to be a line dissecting awareness, my ending and your beginning, or your ending and my beginning. If you can’t find one it’s time to reimagine what you believe.
Go back — go way back — to the innocence you were when you first waved your hands and kicked your toes, back when you were still spitting up a little breast milk with the burp.
Look and see if you can find a beginning, an end, if you can find anything beyond semantics, anything at all beyond your trained seal mind.
Bet you can’t!
I bet you can’t even find a you, let alone a me when you are open enough to look at the actuality of what is — when you set down your well-earned, very natural, inherited and learned, assumptions about how life is, about what you are.
Sit and empty and see if you can find one scrap of difference in now and awareness, in experience and knowing, in here and presence, in be and love. That’s as good a place as any to wade in the creek that flows into the ocean of youness.
Good God! What are you? What am I? What is This?
There is no more important inquiry for these times. Oh yeah … while you’re at it see if you can find time in time, time in now or a semblance of space in here that exists beyond awareness, without experiencing, that isn’t here … you know the drill.
Blessings my friends. Oh what fun!
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.
