I've been thinking the last few days -or maybe it's the last couple of weeks or maybe it's the last few lifetimes.... that I'm not exactly sure what all this reading and listening and meditating is for.
Writings and ponderings I can understand. It's a sort of dissecting and supposing and shifting.
But the others?
I listen. I think about it. I read the words.
And it's beautiful. And rejuvenating. And glorious.
But -funny thing- I don't feel different because of it. I don't even (ordinarily) see that I think differently. I don't feel more wise. More gentle. More expanded. More gracious. More .... more.
I feel the same.
Same head. Same heart. Same center. Same potentiality. Same tragic disaster. :)
Then yesterday -last night- I read "How can I create that? How can I get there?" And the answer was "You cannot get there. You can only Be there."
Ah! Exactly what I said the other day, what I was talking about in I Am, I Said.
It goes so much with what I've been thinking lately.
It's not even (unbelievably) a matter of pretending!
It's just a matter of "Gentle is, as gentle does", as my friend M wrote the other day.
It's just a matter of Being.
Even if only for a moment.
So now I see.
All that reading, and studying, and listening, and meditating has led me to this quiet place of Being. I have woken up to this glorious and wiser place of Being. Of Knowing.