Perfect.

‘Everything is perfect’ we say, cheerfully.

‘Every situation and every feeling and every outcome is totally perfect!’, we hear ourselves proclaim, with shiny spiritual smiles on our tired faces.
And we really want to believe that.
We desperately need it to work.
But it doesn’t.
We say it because, somewhere deep inside, we know it to be true, and we hope that by saying it we finally get to experience it.
But we don’t really, REALLY, believe it, embody it, trust it.
So we say it again, and again, and hope it will become more than a nice philosophical conclusion.
We say it and hope that this time it will go past our thick wall of distrust and fear and trauma, and land gently in our core, where it can blossom and grow into a warm and solid value instead of a fleeting notion.
We really WANT to believe that everything is perfect, always, but we are not capable of feeling that as long as the mind interferes and rains caveats on us.
‘Yeah but the climate.’
‘Yeah but COVID19.’
‘Yeah but starvation and gender neutrality and racism and inequality.’
‘Yeah but my bank account.’
‘Yeah but my weight.’
‘Yeah but…’
And so we never get to the heart of the statement, the radical and complete acceptance of universal perfection, as a fact.
The ‘Yeah buts’ are the ego’s way of keeping us occupied forever, and the big misunderstanding is that we need them as some kind of fuel to change things.
But we don’t.
We can totally change while coming from perfection.
And a profound glimpse is all we need.
A glimpse.
A shimmer of truth.
Love is the fuel.
Perfect.
 
 
(Photo by @chazmcgregor, for Unsplash)

Playing in life.

Playing in life.

11/08/2020