def: The uncontrolled, always shifting, always-as-it-should-be-but-never-the-same nature of reality.
The universe appears to be in constant motion, undergoing constant change. It never stands still. It is always swirling.
…like paint colors in an infinite container stirred by a force beyond my control. All I have control over is what colors I add to the mixture by participating in the world. The more I add, the more of “me” will seem to be in the mixture.
But I do not seem to be able to choose what happens to my color once it’s added to the mixture, where the mixture goes, what colors mix with mine, whether mine spread out or get swallowed up. It’s out of my hands. It belongs to something beyond my story of a “me.”
From the perspective of the “me” I believe myself to be, I can only watch it go and then work with what I’m thinking and believing. And when I’m able to get sufficiently quiet and let inner wisdom emerge, I find that I am not this separate me that I believe myself to be. I find that I AM the swirl, that all the colors are mine, the the colors I name “mine” and the colors I name “not mine” all originate from the same imagination. There is no separation, only a dream of separateness.
My true nature is what I am prior to this dream of a separate “me.”
I find I have reason to be happy: because the swirl is kind. Because I find that despite how it may appear sometimes, the swirl is always swirling for me, because the swirl IS me, always waking me up to what is and, therefore, what should be.
All I have to do is let myself be carried along with it. And, the truth is, that’s what’s happening anyway.