No Matter What, This Is It.

It's possible to be entirely consumed with the circumstances of life. To be held hostage by the rogue self that demands its existence; that cries with despair at the complex mess that seems to be their life, and suffers for the mistakes that seem to have been made. It's possible to feel anything and not ask "why". But it's also probable that why will be asked, and a story will unfold, and great wrongs will be wrestled with, and great hurts healed. There may be hidden aspects that suddenly arise, memories that seem real but perhaps are not, or giant pieces of the puzzle that materialise and make sense of it all. There will be suffering, angst, indecision, discomfort, and loneliness. There will be relief, joy, acceptance, peace, and wonder. When this is seen, that all is one, then these things still arise, but perhaps have very little to stick to. There is no right or wrong way to be. There is no such thing as an enlightened person. There is no correct way to go about enlightenment. That these sometimes excruciating circumstances of life arise isn't some clue that "you're" getting it wrong. Apparent separation can arise even when oneness is seen. All there is, is this, whatever seems to be happening, the feelings, the memories, the sense of a separate self; these things arise in this one exquisite endless moment that is the only reality. It is just as it must be, exactly as it is, even if what it is seems puzzlingly paradoxical. There is a sense, however, that even the most painful circumstance is another gift, a gift of nothing to no one, just another face of love.