The soul is the spirit that longs for all

 

The gray sky opened up and a beam of sun hit my eyes and I started to cry.  Home…home was in that light.  I was seeing beams of light through shadow, the intimate focus of light, the colors in that light.  It was everything, it was where I was from, it was where I was going, it was where I created from.  It was All. 

I remember a moment when I was very sad, I started crying while commuting into work.  I just started sobbing, saying over and over again, “I want to go home!”  It was some sort of otherworldly crying out.  I wasn’t referring to my childhood home, it was a primal soulful cry out for home.  I didn’t know at the time what that home was.  Slowly, little by little over the past year, home was being revealed to me.  Home was with All, in this light that kept finding me when I least expected it.  Like this moment right now, as I sit bathed in morning light in my house writing, wrapped up in All.

I had experienced “All” in cooking breakfast this morning for my daughter, in the way the conductor’s hands moved over the sound, in playing the piano, in the way my horse moved with such grace, in his gray eyes long ago.  All.  This is where we are from.  This is where we are going, this is who we belong to, this All, this everything.  We don’t belong to each other, we belong in All, we go back to All.  There is no lack in All, there is no loss.  There is the warmth of sunlight, the light…which illuminates everything.

“She had a glow about her Cindy, it was the strangest thing.  She looked the best she had in months.”  Christine was lost in thought as she talked about the day she spent with her dear friend, the day before she died.  I smiled as tears ran down my cheeks, because I had seen that glow before.  A month before my grandmother died, I was speaking to her.  She laid in bed and had a glow about her, I have always described it as, the soul being drawn up close to the skin.  This light, this light of All in us, seeking to go back home.  This is why I do not fear death, because I will simply be going home to All where there is only light and love.  I have seen All, I have touched it, I have felt it in my hands.

And while death seems a morbid subject matter for a light filled Sunday morning, I think it’s rather a beautiful hopeful subject.  It reminds us of life, what we are here to do, why we came here, to bring All here, to live this life, to learn our lessons, to create, to be light and loving.

“What is Hell, it is a place without God.”  I remember the Sunday school lessons well, as an adult, hell can be something that we experience here, it is when we reject love, when we fail to forgive, when we choose not to see All in another human person.

I know that I have been an epic failure at this a time or two. And when I have, I have suffered greatly.  But then again, All works in mysterious ways.  Ways that we can’t see at the time, but through even the darkest moment, we are being called, closer and closer to this light.  It is the light that we are attracted to the most, not the person, not the music, but what is behind the music, that light, that energy that flows though everything.  It is not in one person, or one place, or one moment in time.  It is everywhere.

And this is why I cry, much, because I am so filled with awe of All.

And I don’t care if people find me strange, or too fanciful for thinking this way, for believing this way, for being awake.

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