This Terrible Love, a journal of nonduality

  We are over the rainbow. There only ever is over the rainbow, but when it's not seen, that's when the suffering happens. The separation.   Yet everyone is innocent, no one chooses or acts, no one is bad or good, life just happens. Sometimes something so heartbreakingly beautiful appears to happen because of something that seems so heartbreakingly tragic in this unfathomable dream of life, even though there is only what appears dancing simultaneously without cause or effect.   A little girl sings before the world and cries, and we cry with her. A little girl dies and her mother weeps, and we cry with her. A man blows himself up for the love of his god and kills people, and his mother cries and we cry with her. Tears flood the world and bathe it in love. The water rises and becomes a bittersweet symphony of life and death and love and loss with all the angels singing songs they will never finish as they have never even begun, and there are only ever angels and there are n...

People, events, and experiences seem like art in a museum I once walked through. I remember seeing an exhibition of impressionist paintings --- when you see them in apparent physical reality it is nothing like an image in a book or on a screen. The richness of the brush strokes, the vivid colors; the paintings caress you, pull you in, and yet are still a projection. Something seemed to happen between me and each painting, a communion; we were each as alive and real as the other. After all, I am nothing but a painting of impressions, as are we all. When I felt it was over, like an orgasm concluding lovemaking, I walked away from a painting. I did not feel loss, but consummation. That painting and I had never been separate and never would be. And at last, I left the museum. Filled with all the art I merged with, even as the images no longer danced before my eyes. So it is with all the apparent people, places, and things in this dream of a life. Lovers, friends, famili...