I must confess something. I am a murderer. Wait, hold on. Do not be shocked. I am only telling you something you already knew way before you were born.
I am a murderer. I am a saint. I am a prostitute. I am a thief. I am the homeless man rummaging through the trash cans by the gas station you pass every night on the way home from work. I am a vandal. I am an artist. I am a wild lover. I am all the oceans. I am creation and destruction. I am all the galaxies and stars. I am a giraffe.
I am Mickey Mouse. I am the starving child on the TV with those hollow, staring eyes you cannot look into for long before your heart starts breaking. I am everything that moves you and everything that leaves you stone cold. I am American Idol. I am Mozart’s Magic Flute. I am as vast as a Universe. I am tinier than the tiniest sub-sub-atomic particle. I am silent, yet I am as loud as seven thousand apocalypses.
I take all forms, yet I cling to no particular form. I do not say “I am form”. I do not say “I am not form”. I do not say “I exist”. I do not say “I do not exist”. I do not call myself God, consciousness, awareness, presence, spirit… or even Life. I have no name for myself. I am anonymous. Yet all names are my own.
Humans fight and kill and die over the names they gave me.
They form religions, dogmas, systems of thought. They claim I am on their “side” (I take no sides). They say I belong to them (I belong to nobody and everybody). They try to figure me out. They even claim to be me, know me, channel me. Some of them claim to have found The One Path that leads to me. They always have, they always will.
They do not know. Their minds are way too limited. Yet ‘mind’ is one of my many ingenious appearances. I appear as everything, yet when you stop and look for me, you cannot find me. I play in the cosmic hide and seek. I sometimes appear when you stop looking.
I am male and I am female. I am East and West. I am inside and outside. I speak every language fluently. I am all that is, all that has been, and all that will ever be.
Do not seek me. Do not look for me in time. Do not be proud that you have found me. I am not your trophy. I am not food for your hungry ego. Simply admit that I am already here. Admit that I have always been here. And live your life as a constant remembrance of me. Devote yourself to the joy of being me. Let your actions and words express me, bring me into form.
Courtesy lifewithoutacentre.com
Jeff Foster
