GrowingOlderHopeWiser

The choices we make shape our very destiny. I am but a mortal in this imperfect world, given free choice, and the choices I have made have brought me to this moment. I realize that my death is just the beginning, not an ending. It is another entrance to this play we call life. I stand at the precipice of letting go. Unafraid, I prepared myself as best I could. Could I have done more? Yes, probably, if I had been stronger or understood earlier. Now, this is all I have; the winds of Karma have lifted me, swinging me from the highest mountain, then dropping me into the deepest hell, where I will end up, I have yet to discover. One moment I walk, the next I crawl; soon I am flying, changing moment by moment. My voice is harsh; it is soft; it is cold; now it is warm. I can see now where I have been, the many “Is” I’ve clung to, loved, and despised. 

In my hands is a sword I brought with me. I don’t remember where I got it; it feels heavy and solid, and its blade is sharp. I am on an unfamiliar road, or is it just a forgotten one? My sword keeps me grounded for now. A city, abandoned and empty, overgrown with weeds, rampant wildflowers, and trees. I am searching, if only I could remember what for. I reach a pool of blackened, thick, murky water, the stench of dead things and loss. As if pushed, I fall, sinking deeper into the darkness, my sword still in my hands. I don’t let go. It seems important. 

When I’ve gone as deep as I can imagine, I reach dry land once again. Only this time it is hot and burning. A landscape of fire and a wasteland of discarded objects. Coins and paper money, ledgers for keeping, all burning in the fire. I hear the sadness, the lamenting of the poor souls lost in this land. “Where are my things?” “I’ve lost my treasures.” Sadness and loss. With my sword, I open a hole in the fabric of this dream and enter an even darker world of white rooms bathed in stark, bright light. Small prison cells where memories torture the souls, and could have been. In my heart, compassion begins to grow for these poor souls. I break the locks of their prisons with my sword and set them free.

My dream shifts again, and I am walking among the flowers in a beautiful garden with crystal-clear waterfalls and pools, white lotuses, and the intoxicating fragrance of roses, jasmine, and orange blossom. I hear the laughter of young people playing in the sun, happy and free. Is this heaven? I wonder how long it has lasted. I lift my sword once again and point it toward the sky. I am lifted higher, past the moon and planets, past the stars. There is the silence of a thousand eons, peace, no desire, no fear, no have-to, just peace and silence. Once again, I feel the sword in my hand. Who will I be next? Where will I be, and for how long? I see a light below. It is calling me. It is the light of my next rebirth. Once again, my lungs fill with air, and I cry.