Amaya Gayle

If there's nothing but God masquerading as you & me, sniffing and snorting, bucking and chasing, then there is no you or me, only the appearance of me and you … oh god, what a zoo. What can one do to get out of this zoo? Am I the zookeeper or a caged critter? Neither? Both? What if I can’t know?

Banksy, Erasing History

Even though life is not what most think, and ultimately there's no such thing as lasting harm, letting trauma and torment befall another human being, even just one, even if it is part of an intricate exquisite illusion, damages me, makes me less human, and begins a downward spiral into oblivion.

If we have any power, it's the power of words. We determine our lives with the stories we write, with the headlines we post, with our ideas of good and bad, failure and success ... and they are all ideas, or at least they are in my glorious mess of a world. Whether they are in yours, is your story.

The haunted heart of chaos. Image by Chordus at Deviant Art

Moving through chaos may not happen as fast as you'd like, but it is happening. Life is change, and it's not always easy. Comfort is overrated. Being uncomfortable, being sad or angry doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. The juice of transformation lies in the heart of chaos.

Ripples of infinite aliveness, actuality in form, something indescribably more than that, we ripple, rubbing against other ripples, leaving patterns in our wakes. Cosmically connected patterns of light appearing as you and me, but still only us, the unity self, the unimaginable savior.

While that may show disrespect for the office, which he has never been elected to, that's not the biggest concern I have about Elon.

The world has always been broken ... words to breathe deeply into our hearts. To have compassion for oneself and others while being present to the pain and suffering, to this broken world, as well as the beauty and wonderment, ah life ... you offer so much.

Simply being, openly feeling, the need to be something other than what I am drowned in preciously stark reality is freeing. It is a privilege denied by many, avoided by many, disavowed by many, but it is filled with effortless unreasonable aliveness and available to everyone, for it is what we are.

The ‘me’ is made of resistance, resistance to what is, not surrender, not thy will not my will, not unconditional love, not even yes, this is what is and I'm damn sure I can’t change what already is. That is really all the me is, that which can be sucked into the good fight.

No one is anyone. We aren't self-determining somebodies. We are something much better, something more precious than antimatter, what the material world view sees as the most precious substance of all. We are infinite aliveness at play, imagination dancing, appearances appearing vanishing appearing.

In times of hardship and stress loving is a revolutionary act.

I am absolutely fascinated with the multiplicity of ways This expresses itself. What a smorgasbord of delight and dismay, joy and fear, fantasy all.

Image: Josephine Wall

What if the coming transformation of human consciousness is not coming after all? What if instead of 100 beings who grok what's going on, now there's a few more, or less? Are you living for a perfect future and missing the perfect present. It doesn't look like what you wanted, for sure. Surprise!

We are feeling beings. We cannot not feel. We feel life as it is, replete with trauma and joy, a ricochet of pain and bright smiles, or our stories about life, tales of right and wrong, good and bad, us versus them, the ingrained story of suffering that most call life, Either way, we feel.

The fact that I have little interest in improving the world could lead you to assume that I have no compassion for the world and her people. That would be inaccurate. What it means is I have no need for anyone to be different. That's never worked, but loving people as they are works for me.

The ending was a bit of a surprise, eh?

We’ve been taught to know the right answer, that it's important to survival. So, it's no surprise that judgement is automatic. There’s a hitch, though. My right may be your wrong. In this era of radicalization, how do we keep it from tearing us apart? Your thoughts? Add to mine at amayagayle.com

I have no interest in changing the world. That could lead you to assume I have no compassion for the struggle. Actually, I just have no need for the world or anyone in it to be different. Here, compassion naturally arises when I see struggle. I love you as you are, not the pretend and improved you.

Life is infinite aliveness. You are immortality playing hide 'n seek with mortality.