Eye Witness

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Eye Witness

Photo by Wings Of Freedom on Pexels.com

What:  a crime has been committed, the death of the spirit of a human being

When: while adjusting to earth

Where:  at the sight of belief


How:  amnesia

There has been a crime committed.  A body has been found living in the Earth Plane, Milky Way Galaxy, in a solar system on the outer ring of its spiral.   

She is walking around with no idea of her true identity – vulnerable to the beliefs of the mass consciousness around her and oblivious to the gifts that she garners within her spirit’s life which includes but transcends time.  She has allowed her amnesia to become complete, and is, as we speak, among the walking dead.  Her mind is full of fear and self-loathing, and I want to know why. I AM the Eye Witness.

Eye Witness:  played by the Author

Mind:  played by the Author

Council of Elders:  Intuitive guides who support Eye Witness, translated by Author

Heart, the realization of the Self of All – played by the Essence of the All, translated by the Author

The Eye Witness begins speaking:

What we have here is essentially a play in three acts.  The first act is the beginning of the amnesia of a human, the second act is remembering, and the third act, is the improvisatory stage that is created in honor of the first act.  It is to be lived in the time of no-time which cannot be described without considerable effort on our part, so we will leave that bit for later.

What comes to mind is to canvas the murder sight for clues.  To this end we implore you to engage your imaginations and come with us to a world that has no physical bearings whatsoever.  This world is not only dark and formless, it is empty.  What differentiates it from the sort of vacuum or void that it could be imagined here is the fact of its utter stillness, and for lack of a better word, peace. 

A peace that passes understanding is one with no opposite.  No attachment whatsoever to any concept of a polar bearing, while including that concept.  It just is, and that is what makes it the perfect site to plan a murder.

What, you ask?  A murder of the perfection of a peace that is beyond understanding?

Yes, and it is beyond understanding, because it is beyond time, which is synonymous here, with Mind (M).

M. how do you know that?

I don’t know.  I un-know.

M. what do you mean by that?

It reveals itself to me, not through the mind, but that which allows the mind to exist.  It is felt in the gut and traces upwards through the sternum, warming the body as if lit within by a toasty fire on a cold, cold day.

M. revelation, then?

I’ll leave that for you to “understand”.  More on that later.  Back to our murder scene . . .

. . .Where was I?  Oh, yes, utter stillness.  Observing the unfathomable strength and subtlety of this state, which has its roots in indefatigable nothingness without bearing or origin, you are aware of your divine nature – whole, holy and blessed to be a part of that which is nothing or no-thing.  It is the birthplace of contentment since it has no emphasis whatsoever.  And this contentment is without end, endlessly varied, complete and full within itself.  Just writing about it my Heart, or sacred core, responds in recognition.  At the same “time” recognition is expressed, there is a caveat: no one who experiences this depth of benevolence and grace leaves untouched.  Aware of the gift of life, free to partake of the immortal waters of gender-bending system-wide and constant whole-being bliss dialysis, the urge comes to each who knows “what they are” to contribute.

M.  Ah, therein lies the rub.  It’s the old tribal rule:  contribute or die! 

You are not dead, yet, for you have no need of belief.  It is more like, contribute to your own unfoldment and share the gifts of sovereignty with the All, of which you are a microcosm.

M. What the What?

In other words, contribute to the unfoldment of All, of which you are, or stay stagnant and atrophy.  And we come to earth, the site of the murder, to learn about choosing.  In the end, or outside of beginnings and endings, the now, we have chosen everything, because we enjoy the way the light refracts through us when we have become aware as a multifaceted bejeweled being.  Diamonds ARE a gal’s best friend, when it means knowing what you are so completely you give over to it.

M: wait, you are saying we are choosing this experience to stretch ourselves so that we can become what we already are?  Where is the fun in that?

Who said anything about fun?  What it is not is fun.  What it can be is an adventure with great seeming peril, which upon closer look is just files after files of fast moving still-shots, that you are shooting and participating in ALL AT THE SAME TIME!!!!

M:  fuck.  And this is impossibly riveting.  Like choosing your own adventure, except we have forgotten we have a choice!!

Precisely.  Well said, mind.  You have a real future, you know?

M:  I do?

Nah, I was just kidding.  You are totally D.O.A. (Dead on Arrival).

M:  very funny.  Are you saying that I am born with the body and therefore die with it?

We aren’t saying anything without our lawyer.  Just kidding.  It’s like you want to know where you originate, correct?  But your origin is without origin since it has no beginning or end and is both existent, non-existent and beyond.  How do you describe a parabola?  It is a curve whose opposite is a straight line.  With straight lines your geometry is limited.  Just add curves and the sky’s the limit!  You have circles and shapes without end and just ask any kid if they prefer playing with sticks or a ball. 

But I digress.

Yes.  Mind, you are limited in your manifest form, and limitation, since it has an opposite, cannot survive on the flat line of non-duality that is your unmanifested nature (which, by the way, feels really good – like that bliss or nirvana that those sages describe – a long constant psychasm). 

M:  so, I throw myself a curveball, in so many words, and now we are calling that a crime?

I’m not calling the curve ball a crime, I am simply an eye witness.  You have called it a crime because of all your pissing and moaning at the outcome of your pitch!

M:  Can we slow down a bit here?

You got it, Muchacho.


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