Is it possible to dream ourselves into a new reality?
Right out of the division and vampirism. And into a universal type of peace.
I don’t mean anything so idealistic that I, or any one person, could change reality for anyone else. But that, in an essential and concrete sense, I, or any one person, can can change my own reality. In any singular instance; a choice exists. A choice of what to believe. At the moment of approaching the security check at the airport, there is a choice. At the moment of becoming aware of a cop on the road we’re driving down, there is a choice. At the moment of any number of singular instances in my life, I have experienced a moment of choice.
The choice is to believe that I am in some way or degree at odds with the other, or not. The choice to acknowledge some power disparity, or not. The choice is to see the humanity and to fall in love with it. Not the person, individually, but with humanity as a whole, and our collective and individual fate of evolving our consciousness through our own free will.
Whatever stage, degree, or level that any particular human being is at or has reached is astounding and beautiful. Because we’re the same. I’ve been there. They’ve been where I am. We are both evolving our consciousness through our free will. we are both on some level or another short of fully conscious. We are each staring at each other in a world made for us- to challenge us to evolve. We’re all parallel gamers, each playing at one time or another, an NPC and a first-person. Each of being for the other a villain, savior, corroborater, saboteur, friend, foe, hero, or unnamed background guy 400.
And what I find interesting is that I do believe this feeling is changing my reality. Or, as a consequence of having attained this reality, I feel the presence of universal love. The very substance which creates and maintains this reality. And, and a corollary of having resonated here, it seems so much less likely that the predatory entities will have much of a hold. Like a slippery fish, there is nothing to hold on into. I slip away from their clutches being without snags of fear, resistance, anxiety, etc.
But, what do I know.
I just know that I seem to have slipped through so many cracks. Lovely people speak to me. Grumpy ones keep their distance. I had pleasant interactions with the pat-down TSA workers, and felt elated after having conversations with them. My Faux-pas are excused with a simple and direct “I’m sorry” when there seems to be more on the offended ones mind. No more words or explanation are needed to feel perfectly at peace and without worry amidst thousands of strangers. They don’t really seem like strangers any longer. They are the myriad faces of man kind.
And I find that in man kind, I see my self.
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