Imagine this: When in moments of love when we are able to lift out of ourselves, think of how one day the body will fall away, just as the chrysalis or the seashell releases its hold on the life placed within it. We have become so used to the idea of our human self, so used to its body, appearance, language, and expectation that we have placed our entirety into it. But one day, we will know these things are not truly ours; that they must be returned to the sole sovereignty of Earth.
Could it be that all things in nature have an interior presence, returning to this life and that in order to animate a form and thereby learn of love? Does not each of us know secretly within that deep love and its awareness cannot die, but only adapt and turn along a spiral of longing?
What a relief it must be to breathe in the perfumed rays of light after the heaviness of Earth. There! What an extraordinary thought, that we, you and I, infinitesimal persons in the vastness of space, have a life beyond, one that is before and after this worldly place.
Let us take a leap of mind and know that we are but visitors here, like divers who put on a suit to walk upon the bed of the ocean, to rise to the surface when the work is complete and the lesson learned. It is not outside that we will discover from where we have come and where we are going, but from behind closed eyes and within an open heart.
Let us understand then that all we take with us when we leave this place is whatever depth of love we have claimed as our own.¬†Everything else passes away, and how real can something be if it does not last?
Adapted from “Twelve Little Boats to God”