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In individuality, we seek wholeness;
in wholeness we seek individuality.
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IN MY DREAM, I WAS on the meadow hill speaking before a large mass of people. A glowing ball hovered over each person’s head as an extension of each.
Charged words poured out of me. “We often think we are alone in this life, a mere individual steering our course the best we can through the darkness of uncertainty. This aloneness is as a baby duck getting lost when following its mother and siblings on an outing, desperate to belong again. This aloneness is like being transported from a bustling city to a desolate land, even if the reality is that we are surrounded by multitudes of people. If we can’t connect, it is as if others are not even there.”
My words seemed to fly out like a gentle storm of powdery energy that absorbed into my listeners. “This uncertainty generates a thrust to connect, join, unify with something or someone, some way, some how. The quest to feel connection masquerades as a need to be loved, to belong, to feel calm, secure, and worthy, to know that we are okay, and all is right with our world.
“Our modes of connection are many: goal collaboration, romance, sex, having children, friendships, belonging to groups, or receiving acclaim. When others are moved by our ideas, emotions, bodies, creativity, or accomplishments, we are elated that we made the connection.
“Sometimes the only way we can connect is to misbehave. The toddler who throws a toy at his mother’s head, the woman who makes her lover jealous, the lonely alienated man who commits mass murder, all to convey one message. Notice me. All these acts are done to connect, to make contact, to get attention, to get proof we exist.”
I could feel the energy of the crowd thicken as I spoke. “Negative attention can do that, but in general, we prefer others to care for us with all their hearts, because we then feel worthy and really alive. This is true in romance, parenthood, family, friendship, and even in celebrity.
“Romance is the idea that another can love us unconditionally to the death. And when that sentiment is returned, it is the stuff of legendary lovers. This too is true of children who want more than anything to know their parents love them unconditionally, above all others. A family who accepts and supports each other is a prize. Best friends are the ones who always have each other’s back. Celebrities often mistake the masses celebrating their shine for personal love, but they do feel loved and thus shine more brightly.”
The crowd seemed to drink in my energy, yet gave it back with their great need to hear it.
“Difficulties arise when we try to feel connected from a perception that we are all alone in this world and must fend for ourselves. This can manifest in manipulating and controlling behaviors. If we can manipulate our significant others to do as we need, then we feel that means they love us. In getting others to submit to our dominance, we have made a connection, albeit from a controlling stance. A dictator controlling the masses feels connected to the conquered, and yet is plagued with constant fear of being overthrown and subject to tragic behavior.
“All these modes, though twisted, are still forms of connection. What is a winner without losers, a boss (at work or home) without subordinates, or a tyrant without subjects? The need for constant approval exudes our insecurity, and invites or incites abuse”
The crowd murmured loudly for a few seconds, then simmered down.
I went on, “We also prefer our social world to include us as a member of the tribe rather than hang us out to dry for a difference of opinion. Even rebels and activists aim at being heard and accepted by at least some people. Making a grand statement, or creating change makes us feel connected to life, and that our existence matters.”
I heard a few mumbles, “Our existence matters.”
I continued, “Even connecting to the natural world can quell our anxiety. In nature, we feel something of our own soul. Religion too. However, an open spirituality that transcends defined religious ideology can connect us to everything. Basically, on some level, we have a need to connect with that which seems larger than our individual self. Even scientists are trying to make this connection by understanding the unknown.
“Drugs, though dangerous and unadvisable, have been used as a bridge to feel connected to a broader consciousness. The high is a short cut to feeling that connection. However, this method poses risks, namely adverse drug reactions, unproductive escape from our troubles, and addiction. Drug free mediation can better serve us in feeling what is perhaps the greatest connection of all, oneness with all existence.”
The crowd grew hauntingly quiet, as if thirsty to expose this topic.
“These more lofty connections can save us from feeling alone, abused, overwhelmed, or forgotten. However, we actually always are connected, we just feel like we aren’t because of the perceptions that keep our reality in place.
“Even the natural world can be viewed as having separate features; the mountain, the stream, the trees. Yet, in a panoramic view, they are all just part of one landscape. The protons, neutrons, and electrons seem separate, but they all make up the atom. A blackberry bush is always one entity with many leaves, berries, and roots, so the reality of one leaf or one berry being separate from the rest of the bush is not the whole picture. It is separate, and yet it isn’t.
“Unlike humans, plants in metaphysical, and to some extent scientific theory, experience connection with other plants as if they are one entity even as they physically compete to survive. Even animals have in studies been shown to experience connection in a variety of ways, such as geese flying in a v formation, or bees making and tending a hive, or the telepathy of monkeys on one island being taught something, and monkeys on the adjacent island learning it.
“So while there are forces at work that lead us to compete, every member of a species seems to draw upon the collective memory of that genus. This helps explain universal phobias, such as spiders, snakes, and heights. Whatever happened to our distant ancestors, no matter what species we are, seems to become a part of our unconscious memories.”
I heard a bit of discussion amongst the crowd, and decided I needed to wrap up my speech. “However, while this naturally occurs in almost every form of nature, humans have a brand of intellect whereupon they decipher reality, usually concluding they are alone in the world, because that is what it looks like. We so often exact great schemes to feel connected. But we already are. Those at the greatest peace can sink deep beneath consciousness into their core being. The deeper they go, the more connected they feel to all life, to energy itself. From this mind state, we can see life’s symmetry, how everything connects in a brilliant dance of beauty. This was Buddha’s great discovery.
“The essence of our deepest possible being then contains all of nature, all forms of life, all molecules and atoms, infinity and eternity, transcending time and space, and the breath of life—all life.”
The people in the crowd each welled up in a golden light until they merged as one glorious emanation. I gasped at the beauty of the rich mellow gold that soothed me so. I suddenly had a strange sensation that the crowd was me, my own plurality, all the me’s I’d ever been and currently are, and perhaps will be. I’d been talking to my many selves, giving an old lecture really, but it seems there were aspects of me that needed a refresher.
Then I wasn’t on the hill, I was on my mat, hearing my dad and Fool conversing next to me. My Fool was saying, “We are all connected.”
Then my dad said, “We just feel alone.”
Opening my eyes, I sat up, and beheld my beloveds standing over me. My dad was still bare, save his purple boxer shorts. My Fool adjusted His headphones. I could hear Mahler’s third symphony eking out. Then suddenly, I heard it everywhere around us as background music.
I rose to face them, the hem of my white dress bunching up a bit from the tall grasses. “I just had the most interesting dream.”
My Fool said, “About connection?”
I nodded.
“That is today’s adventure.” He held out His hand. “Shall we begin?”
I sighed with a smile, “Yes. Connection is my favorite subject.”
We all began walking, not that walking was ever necessary, but it did serve as a time to transition into the next experience. In front of us, there appeared the beginnings of a wide road.
My Fool said, “This is the road of empathy and apathy.”
I narrowed my eyes, looking ahead as far as I could. There seemed to be measurements on the road marking increments like a giant ruler.
I asked, “What are the markings?”
My Fool answered, “They measure sensitivity levels.”
“Oh,” I said, examining the road further. The first part was colorful, almost too colorful, and it kind of hurt my eyes. The further down the road I looked, the colors slowly faded until way at the end it appeared grey and bleak looking.
I said, “I am guessing this first part is empathy and the end is apathy.”
My Fool said, “Yes, we humans span this road, experiencing various levels of sensitivity and apathy. However, as a collective, we experience it all. In singular identity, of course the more sensitive we are, the more we feel. And of course, the less sensitive we are, the less we feel. Both extremes present monumental challenges.” His palm opened to the road, “Shall we?”
I was a bit apprehensive, but stepped on the road in unison with my dad and Fool. Billions of small energy configurations were vibrating around us with such intensity, all I heard was loud painful buzzing. I clamped my head, and my knees buckled. My whole reality was pain, joy, sadness, madness, pleasure, terror, poking at me, poking me to pieces, so much so that I couldn’t feel any sense of direction.
I slanted my eyes right to my dad, then left to My Fool. They had somehow managed to equalize the energy, but I was being eaten alive by it. I felt my arms on each side lifted and pulled along the path to the next increment.
I felt better and stood on my own as my dad and Fool dropped my arms. I sighed hard. “That was horrible. I guess that is what some acute forms of mental illness can feel like. My own sensitivity has tortured me at times, but that felt even more unbearable, like a never ending living hell.”
My Fool said, “At that level of sensitivity, the energy field emanating from the body is thin, or drastically porous, or even absent in places. The result is a lack of boundary between certain worlds, rendering these people unable to, in most cases, discern the difference between one reality and another, and distinguish their imagination from what is true in their physical reality. To exist as an individual, we must have some ability to block out the reality of other people and worlds.”
I said, “That’s hard for me.”
My dad raised a brow. “At least you can do it.”
“Barely.” I looked about me. “This area feels very familiar. I am guessing we are in my territory now.”
“Yes,” My Fool confirmed. “It is much more stable here, albeit often difficult to manage. Of course, there is a long road between where we just left and where we are now, but for the purpose of demonstration, I have condensed things.”
My dad confirmed, “This arena here really is you, Sue.”
I examined the road, bright and colorful still, but the color seemed more controlled or solid. Butterflies flitted, and toads hopped about flowers and broken glass. The road surface was a patchwork of dirt and rocks, grass and flowers, garbage, pavement, water, fire, and clouds.
I couldn’t take my eyes off my surroundings. “This is so weird!”
My Fool looked about. “Those who dwell here are exceptionally sensitive, and highly empathic with a colorful energy field that is more porous and extensive than most. However, it is not broken, nor thin, as is the case with your more feeling neighbors.
“The exceptionally sensitive walk into life feeling more connected to everything and everyone than the average person. This connection manifests as empathy or in other words, unconditional love. These people naturally feel at one with everything. In this, while they often experience the reality of others, they also tend to project their own reality onto everyone.
These sensitives are especially vulnerable to the idiom, Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly, or walking into the lion’s den. Assuming that everyone possesses the same loving motivation as they, getting metaphorically bitten is not uncommon.
“The predator welcomes these innocents into their lair and feeds off them. The empathic victims are shocked by these violations, for they could never imagine another with such intent. They are further at risk for abuse by those steeped in separatism, snug within walls of, It’s me against you. Out to serve themselves, they consciously or unconsciously exploit the good will of others. I will step on this person and take or destroy what they have that I do not. That makes me feel strong and vindicated. I need to feel strong because inside I feel so helpless and alone.”
I hung my head, expelling a pained sigh. “That has happened, all of what you just said, to me so many times. When people treat me poorly after I pure heartedly connect with them, I feel shattered inside. I am shocked. It isn’t so much that I want to be liked, but I don’t understand why anyone would behave negatively toward me when I give them pure love.”
My dad interjected, “Sometimes they are just not ready for it. Sometimes they don’t believe you, and think you are a phony. And on occasion, they might be jealous, and have a need to demean you to feel better about themselves.”
I said, “I just wish I could shield myself better from that kind of fall out. It just hurts so much. It’s like I absorb the energy they are throwing at me. Feeling their reality is unbearable.”
My Fool gave a wily smile. “Empaths are quite the sponges!”
As Mahler’s third symphony came to a rather whimsical part, I had a little vision of a bunch of sponges flying around absorbing everyone’s realities, then getting weighed down by unsavory emotions, not their own. I would have laughed, but it was never funny when that happened to me.
My Fool commented, “This is why empaths need a lot of solitude. Alone, they are not subject to all the energy flying about when in the presence of others, and they can also air themselves out from what they’ve sponged.”
I said, “This is so true. Even when I am around friendly others too long, I absorb their realities, and need time alone to separate my reality from theirs. It’s like, I need to reel myself in. I have improved though at envisioning a shield around myself before I go out into public, charged with an attitude of I am not up for grabs.
The road was suddenly dotted with numerous white beings, almost faceless, eyes closed, heads slightly jutted in deep concentration as if they were here, but not here. Energy from their beings emanated far around them, sometimes stretching a ridiculous distance. I noticed then that their whiteness shone slight rainbow colors.
My Fool said, “This is what empaths look like at this level. Though they may question their sanity from time to time, constantly experiencing other people’s realities as their own, they can, when aware, stay centered in themselves. And with a little work, they can develop skills to cope with their sensitivity, and function normally in the mundane world.”
My mind flooded with memories. “I can relate to questioning my sanity. Once, when I was a child with my mom in a mall parking lot heading for the car, a girl was on the pavement having an epileptic fit with medical people gathered around her. I had felt strange suddenly and went into a state of mind that frightened my mother. I was not being a drama queen, I was feeling the girl’s reality, but I didn’t know it.
“Another time when I was young, I was in a movie theater with my siblings. I suddenly felt so weird that panic took me. Seconds later, a severely mentally challenged child walked past me down the aisle. I had felt his reality before he passed me by. I have had hundreds of experiences like this all my life. That is also why being around anger upsets me so much, even if it has nothing to do with me. I absorb the anger, and I just want to run and hide.”
My Fool added, “This absorption can also happen from afar by tuning into a topic, such as gun violence.”
My eyes widened. “Yes, I was writing a fiction book once and researching guns. I suddenly could feel gun violence the world over throughout history, all at once. I was on the floor in a ball crying!”
My dad said, “That’s so you, Sue.”
I said, “I know. The only way I have been able to detach is by shifting my focus,” I looked at My Fool, “as you once taught me long ago. Like changing channels, I need to sometimes tune out all stations but the one that brings beauty and relief. I guess that is a positive about being an empath. The simplest things can bring me great joy. ”
My dad said, “It took you a long time to learn how to separate your reality from others, but you have made great progress.”
I smiled faintly. “I have come a long way.”
My Fool added, “Those on this level also can feel when others are strongly thinking about them. Intuition is acute because their auric emanation (which is a manifestation of their state of being) is more permeable than most, hence not sealing them so strongly into their own realities. Therefore, they can see into not only others, but also other realms more easily. While this insider vision makes them wonderful healers and artisans, they are also susceptible to all the emotional currents of the world, and can be sucked in easily.
I nodded, “I have had to learn to step back and take a beat before succumbing to those currents. I also censor where I go, what I watch, and what I might hear.” Suddenly feeling the weight of all I’d learned to shut out, my hands became fists at my side, hiding my thumbs. With a strong exhale, I exclaimed, “I could get out and about more if I could strengthen my shields.”
My Fool said, “You could, but it may not be necessary. Your way is your way and it gives passage to many experiences that are meant for you. As incidents arise and it becomes necessary to develop your shielding, then you will, and you have. It is important to release the notion of having to be a ‘certain way’ and instead embrace who you already are.”
I relaxed a bit with that. I found it hard to get it through my head that I don’t have to be achieving all the time.
My dad said, “You are not alone, Susan. There are many who struggle in this level of sensitivity. Even famous well known philosophical types have become alcoholics as a result of trying to numb the pain they constantly empath from others. Another pitfall, as you have experienced, is trying to rid yourself of other people’s suffering by saving them, all of them, which is impossible.”
I sighed hard. “That is so true. I know I will feel better if I can make whomever I am emptying feel better. I have had to back off from that considerably just to survive. I used to feel weak because I was so easily overwhelmed with all I was sensing and feeling.” I looked to My Fool. “You taught me that I can still feel that oneness, but from a deeper place. By maintaining a meditative mind state, I can merge with people’s quintessence while disengaging from their outward persona.”
An instance came to mind.
My Fool, seeing into me, uttered, “Share.”
I explained, “Once an acquaintance with a criminal history came to my door. He was high on meth. His rapid speech went on and on with a focus of getting into my house. He had locked himself into my presence inside my energy field. Initially, I tried to reason with him, giving plausible excuses why he couldn’t come in. I tried to redirect him where he could go instead. But my situation remained the same. So I gave up reasoning and soul merged with him, not his identity, but far beyond his body and life story. When I did that, he stopped talking, and had a funny look on his face, as if unable to maintain the perception of me as a separate someone he was trying to overpower. He blurted, ‘I have to go,’ and virtually ran to his car and sped away.”
My dad and Fool were grinning and nodding.
I cocked my head. “What?”
My Fool said, “You chose not to participate in his drama. You ducked under the oncoming wave instead of dealing with his identity. When we remain centered in ourselves, we naturally do the balanced thing, which ends better for all concerned.”
I smiled back. “I did do that. Staying balanced for me has become my main life goal.”
“Balance, however,” my dad added, “is an individual thing. What is balanced for you may not be balanced for me. For example, for one who is constantly used, balance might be closing the door in those people’s faces.”
“Or,” My Fool said, “balance sometimes can appear tragic. If, for instance, a crazed person breaks into our home and is charging at us, we might, if we have a firearm, instinctively use it. The intruder then has forced his hand, and has called for the experience of being shot.”
I sighed hard. “I agree. We so often blame ourselves for other people’s behavior, but what happens to those people, as you have previously stated, is all a part of their set up to have the experiences they need. I really must remember that regarding those I have upset.”
My dad put his arm around my shoulders. “It is inevitable, Sue, that we all will, at times, upset each other.”
My Fool said, “It is just another way we make connections to play out the unconsciously agreed upon story. It is the way it is supposed to be.”
“Yes,” I conceded. “I guess, as horrible as it sounds, even if we accidentally killed another, the killed were in that place and time to exact the storyline needed for not only their soulic progression, but their deaths often generate powerful opportunities for those involved to exponentially grow. Is that right?”
“Yes,” My Fool concurred, “Everyone has their own soulic agenda, and we cannot alter that course, unless that was already on tap for that identity.”
I blew out a hard sigh with apple cheeks, not wanting to go down an unsavory memory lane again. I looked ahead. “I wonder what if feels like further down the road. I mean, I wonder what it would feel like to have less feeling.”
My Fool said, “Well, let’s see.”
We continued walking along as we talked, and I was glad to get further away from all this sensitivity. I began to see people about that seemed more solid, yet had beautiful flaming colors emanating from their beings. They all seemed involved in their various realities. I saw an energy at their feet go into the road.
My Fool said, “People at this level are more grounded. They can have empathy or apathy depending on the situation.”
I exclaimed, “I love that!”
I examined the people more closely. Some were standing their ground and making great headway in their lives. Some were even throwing punches at misbehaving invaders. Others were compassionate, helping those around them. And it was kind of funny, but I saw numerous miniature people diving into the road into someone else’s peril to rescue them. They would pop out of the road with another person or animal.
My Fool explained, “When those at this level aid others at risk to themselves, they are empathizing with the victim, and at that moment are one with them. That is why people will die for their loved ones and even strangers. Saving another is as saving themselves, even if it kills them. This is the stuff of heroes, not born of an attraction to danger, but from identifying with the one in peril.”
My dad blurted, “Every good deed we do is rooted in feeling empathy for another or others.”
My Fool elaborated, “Yes. The dog stuck in the tunnel, the cat with no place to live, the urge to save a baby bird, are all about empathy.”
I sighed hard. “For me, it is extreme. Killing a fly is just too brutal for me, and if I see one struggling, I have to save it. My heart aches every time I see a dehydrated plant, and though I can pull weeds, it really hurts me to do it. It’s hard to live this way.”
My dad said, “Remember Sue, the fly, plant, and weed may not suffer the way you think. We only know suffering based on our human reality.”
I furrowed my brows. "I really need to remember that. For instance, to the eagle who lost its mate, that loss is experienced in its own way, not my way per se.”
“Exactly,” my dad confirmed. “I have watched you time and time again assume others are suffering in the way you would under the same circumstance.”
I nodded. “So true.”
My Fool said, “This projection, for most, also extends to matters of right and wrong, that what is good or bad for us, is good or bad for all.”
“Yes, that seems quite common.” I scanned my eyes about the people, seeing how their almost blinding boundaries might cause judgmental perceptions. Yet, they also seemed quite able to repel those who would try to thwart them. I blurted. “People here on this level seem to easily guard their boundary.”
My Fool said, “Yes, in defending their well being, they can repel, by whatever means necessary, those trying to take advantage or cause harm. They also can do this for their loved ones.”
I said, “Like warriors.”
“Yes,” my dad affirmed, I think because he was one.
I shook my head. “I respect that so much. To be able to confront and repel looks so beautiful to me. I always admired my daughter for being loving and deep, but also staunch in not giving herself away or taking any garbage from anyone.” I looked to my dad, “I think she has a bit of you in her!”
My dad’s eyes glimmered. “Maybe so.”
My Fool turned His palm upward, outstretched ahead of us. “Shall we continue?”
We walked further down the road in this expansive middle section showing varying degrees of people both connecting and detaching on a regular basis, detaching a little more as we journeyed forth. I really did envy them.
Suddenly, it got colder, almost like winter and everything around us was barren.
I said, “Let me guess, we are on the opposite end now, the land of apathy.”
“Yes,” said My Fool. “These more detached people are deeply embedded in the own identity and have difficulty connecting to anyone.”
I added with psychological expertise, “Excessive detachment is indicative of a psychopath or sociopath. Psychopaths are totally wrapped up in their own existence and unable to empathize with anyone. A sociopath can feel for maybe a few or one person. These select people are often a shining reflection of what the sociopaths have cut off in themselves, something akin to their own souls. They will kill for that person or two, and do whatever it takes to keep them in their lives.”
My dad added, “This behavior also has shades of mafia culture where the family is everything, but everyone else can be killed without batting an eye.”
I said, “For them, and especially the psychopath, desecrating others is a desperate attempt to affirm their own existence.” I shook my head and bit my lip. I did not want to empathize with the psychopath because, having done it before, it is very scary. I learned that they are so alone that they try to make their victims cry out with great emotion, usually fear because that is the only way they know how to connect with them. The only way they can feel is to torture, or kill. I said aloud, “Even psychopaths are trying to connect.”
My Fool said, “Yes, they can’t emotionally connect to anything, not even a pet. They want to feel, but they are unable.”
I said, “That is its own kind of horror I suppose.”
My dad said, “Every rotten deed we do is rooted in an ability to lovingly connect.”
I blurted, “I don’t like it here. Can we get off this road?”
My Fool nodded. “Yes, but remember, even the psychopath is just playing a part, having an experience, and at the core of his or her being is us.”
I cringed. “That is very hard to stomach.” I gulped and took a deep breath, having bumped up against many a socio and psychopath in my life. I blew out air, feeling more solid. “I guess perceiving the so called ‘bad’ people as us, at least spiritually, can help us cope with the trauma of being victimized. I mean while detaching from them on the physical level, we can still feel homogenized on a spirit plane.”
My dad said, “I think so too,” then elaborated. “By acknowledging that we are all one, (the religious version being—We are all god’s children, we can see that the earth story is a collaboration of everyone and everything interacting, alchemizing into something divine. Though we may have been deeply traumatized, there is a powerful reason for any happening. The religious version would be—God works in mysterious ways.”
I said, “I can see that. These trials can lead to intense personal growth and transformation, as well as inciting great change in our social world, such as new laws being created. In the end and from a bird’s eye view, as we have said, tragedy begets beauty, eventually.”
“It’s always both,” My Fool declared.
My dad raised a brow. “We are the whole road, remember?”
I gasped a bit as my dad and Fool seemed to be expanding like water balloons. I noticed then, I was too. Our energy fields were growing and merging with each other. Suddenly, we enveloped the whole road. Mahler’s third symphony, last movement, picked up in volume exuding glorious vibrations, expressing how I felt in this expanded state.
My Fool said, “The more connected we experience ourselves with others, the more we experience ourselves as Creative Energy housing its creations. This also touches upon what it feels like to be in the core of Creative Energy, where creations are created.”
The road felt almost infinite within us, and the possibilities for ranges of experience seemed endless.
My Fool continued, “As we mix all these experiences together, like cake ingredients, we become more than we were, and something else altogether.”
I felt billions of beings moving about on the road of us. My heart swelled feeling the worth of each. I reiterated an old wisdom My Fool once taught me. “We all are as valuable as the universe, we just don’t usually know it. In not knowing it, we travel many roads and have many experiences in search of it.”
The symphony’s explosive ending filtered throughout me, increasing my sense of exaltation.
My Fool declared, “Ain’t . . life . . . great!”
Suddenly, we were back in the meadow standing in a triangle.
I shook my head a bit to get my bearings, “Life is great, I suppose, it just doesn’t always feel that way. But I guess, although closed minds in varying degrees fashion our needed reality, when we release rigid thinking, and open our minds to all possibility, we are more able to feel the company of the world. Life sure feels great then!”
My dad added, “I think this urge to feel better is always, one way or another, a veiled thrust to feel the oneness we knew before we experienced being separate and alone in the world.”
“I agree,” I said. “I think this too applies to our experience of being in the womb. We likely don’t remember being there, but since we were, we have a sense memory of the feeling it evoked. Whatever might emulate it, such as a feeling of belonging, can prove quite comforting. Curling up in a fetal position in the darkest of times is also an attempt to feel safe, secure, and connected to the mother.”
My Fool said, “Being out in the world is daunting, and yet the world is ours to explore. However, the real journey before us is into ourselves, it just takes us time to get there. Adventuring inward is not so popular as adventuring into the unknown depths of the ocean or space. It is human nature. It is our way. There is nothing wrong with that. Only when something cries out in us so intensely, do we often fall into ourselves. We simply must or we will perish. That is if we can even see or sense the way in. Those who cannot may commit suicide or become substance addicted, or maybe even commit homicidal acts. Or, at the very least feel depressed or anxious much of the time.”
I smiled faintly. “But when we do go inward, everything changes.”
My Fool affirmed, “Yes. Even though the journey feels like we are leaving behind everything we cherish, everyone we know, and everything we believe, it is actually a sojourn into the source of all those things. As we wipe away our tears from leaving the outer world reflection in which we have found some measure of comfort born from the feeling of belonging, we might be surprised to feel continually better as we move toward the creative source itself.”
My dad’s eyes deepened. “In arriving at the core of all being, our loneliness fades, and our anxiety and depression are no more.”
Feeling what my dad was saying, I added, “All we ever sought, needed, or wanted is here in our center, where we can see that we have always belonged.”
The rhythm of our words seemed like a song as My Fool spoke in turn. “For at the core of everything, there are no veils or divisions, but only one Creative Energy.”
My dad said, “And this one Creative Energy, it is not out there or a part of us where we beg for it to love us and protect us.”
I continued the thought, “It is in each of us, in the depth of our being where there we merge with the depth of all being.”
“The depth of all being,” My Fool reiterated. His words seemed to echo and trail off.
Suddenly, my head felt big and small at the same time. I felt single and plural, me and not me. And also very tired.
My Fool pointed to the golden mats. “It is time.”
I said, “I can really use a rest right now.”
My dad concurred and we both lay down to rest.
As usual, I felt a thump on my stomach. I felt it and sat up, taking an object into my hand. It appeared to be an enlarged atom.
My Fool’s voice sounded, “The Gem of Connection. Everything is made of atoms. Everything has energy. The bustling interaction of all can only be had through connection. We are all one.”
The atom shrunk to a charm that appeared as the fifth keepsake on my bracelet. “This is to remind you that even if pained by another, that another is a reflection of you, and there is nothing to fear.”
I sighed, lying back down on the mat with reassuring thoughts. We are all different, and all the same. Different on the surface, the same at our core. All in all, we are all one.
I suddenly felt an overwhelming love for those closest in my life. Oh how precious are our family and friends! Right down to their eyes and noses and every hair on their heads. When we connect with them, we can feel oneness and Creative Energy dancing between us. Creative Energy is the fuel in us all, the inner core of every seed that drives it to open. We are connected in an invisible maze that links us together as one force of energy. With that, I fell asleep.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
As you sleep this night, put to rest questions of your worth incited by how others treat you. Put to rest ideas that you are alone, or that anyone is better or worse than you.
When you look upon another, think, I know you are me, deep down, we just look different, and act different, because we each have our individual part to play. We sometimes are in conflict because we all feel a little lost and afraid.
We are our friends and our enemies, the loved and the hated, the sky and the earth, one massive energy. Since we are not separate, we are equally significant always. Sensing our oneness allows us to journey through our day, knowing that everything is okay even if challenges present themselves. If we don’t get the job, it’s okay! If we don’t win the guy or gal, it’s okay! If we don’t look like the socially preferred image, it’s okay! When we can, in oneness, touch a person, a pet, a plant, we touch all existence, and that is intoxicatingly beautiful.