Laughing with friends, playing together with children, walking in nature, making love, experiencing a beautiful piece of music, a film or work of art—these are just a few of the countless moments in all our lives when the utter conviction that we are a limited, isolated self, separated off from the rest of the world, can dissolve away.
And then there is the birth of a child. I look now adoringly at our newborn son, caress his delicate, soft skin, gaze into his endless eyes, see his precious little form cradled in his mother’s arms, who, after the pain, the agony and the torment of labor, is now radiant with joy, our other, two year old son at her side. With the profound beauty of it all there is only love. Love of such power, such intensity, that any attempt to contain it or divide it is simply blown away.
Often we view these moments as special events or unusual occurrences that stand apart from the ordinariness of our everyday reality. But what if the exact opposite were true? What if these moments offer a glimpse of our real, abiding nature, shining unobscured, before our structure of definitions reassembles itself and, in being believed in, clouds the view once more?
Then these timeless moments come as an invitation, a catalyst, to deeply explore how life is beyond our thought-made interpretation; to unveil our true nature, the ultimate mother, whose infinitely fertile womb gives birth to this ever fresh experience called life—to every sound, image, sensation, taste, smell, thought and feeling; to time, space, colour and form; to this entire body of experiencing—without ever being separate from it.
Then we see that we are the laughter and our friends, we are the children we play together with, the lover and the loved, this text on the page and the message of freedom that it conveys. And yes, so too are we those powerful feelings that thought labels as ‘unwanted’ and tries its hardest to resist for fear of being destroyed. And yes, even those thoughts too, still hung up on the old belief that we are exclusively an isolated, vulnerable little ‘me’.
Whatever is in experience can never not be what we are. That is the pure intimacy for which we long. That is coming home. That is the miracle of love.