What IS (3)

Welten Wandler writes («World Wanderer», translated from German):

Once again, time for a confession:

I am completely clueless. Not even clear. The only clarity I have right now is the total clarity of being completely clueless. Having zero clue. And being perfectly at peace with it.

Such Grace, such a Mystery. When did we ever get the absurd idea that we had to control and explain all of this? When did we forget to be like the children who simply ARE?

I think when we ate the fruit from the tree of knowledge. With apparent knowledge comes fear. Because everything behind «I AM», everything I put behind «It IS» can and will pass away. And everything that stands behind «I AM», everything that I put behind «It IS», is afraid — afraid of the Unknown, of the great Mystery of Life that it will never unravel.

Fear of making a mistake, of being wrong. Fear of the dawning realization that we are only here for a blink of an eye, only to be formlessly reunited with the Eternal very soon. That all this can be over at any moment. That we can lose everything and everyone at any time.

Insurance, building society contracts, artificial and compulsive elevation of ourselves through lofty-sounding names and stories, fancy lifestyles and paper certificates are supposed to lull us into security, to give us a sense of importance, to drown out this constant inner fear — the fear of actually knowing nothing, of having no control whatsoever, of helplessly being at the mercy of life.

We come, we go. For thousands of years. Like the leaves on a tree. And yet each leaf struggles — often desperately — to «bring it to something», to find out who it actually is and to gain significance. For what could be worse than being completely insignificant? The nightmare of every «I». We want to shine and sparkle and prove our existence in the brightest colors. Yet life is often also dark, gloomy, hidden and — seemingly — insignificant. And even the «Priestess of the Sun», the «Warrior of Light» and the «Goddess of the Golden Ray» are not immune to quietly and plainly decaying to the soil and dust from which they once emerged.

Amazingly, it seems that when we make peace with life, however it presents itself to us — whether we approve of it or not — when we find the courage to admit to ourselves that in reality, we know nothing at all and face the frightening fact that our earthly existence can be over at any moment, we find that very significance, that endless preciousness that we were always desperately looking for on the outside right HERE. We find the foundation of our entire existence, find that «I AM» or «It IS» that connects everything, is eternal and everlasting and unites everything. And there it ends — the search for the dream partner, the striving for whatever, the never-ending transformation, the «shadow work», the ascension into who knows which realms.

You ARE. In this lies such endless meaning, such endless preciousness. In your mere existing. Here and now.

Without that connection to our Source, we spend our lives in constant fear of not knowing, of the Unknown and of insignificance, and are busy around the clock warding off this terror and keeping it at bay. And we do not see what has been ours all along.

In the courageous confrontation with our fears, in the recognition of our devaluation of what is always lying in wait for us in our darkness — smallness, insignificance, hatred, unwillingness to live, gloom, discord, etc. — and our greed for a judgment about how «it» should be, lies, untouchable and always right in front of us, our freedom.

In admitting that we actually don’t know how it should be, we are able to make peace with what IS. We stop being arrogant and constantly putting ourselves over the top. And we give ourselves permission to be everything, which lifts us above it all — to shine and sparkle and paint our lives in bright colors. And to remain dark, silent and lightless in fertile, black soil, in order to patiently witness once again one of the countless new births, through which once more new space is created, in which — finally — that is allowed to be what could not be before.

Our whole existence — an endless sequence of births and deaths. The true aspiration of all of us — to become so wide that we no longer interfere with this process. To be the space for that which wants to be born into this world through our existence. To lovingly say goodbye to that whose time has come. The rediscovery of that vastness in which everything — truly everything — finds its place. Called Love.


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