When I was in my twenties, I yearned for enlightenment. I had no idea what that was, really, but I was sure it would bring me bliss and happiness. Joy. Mystical experiences.

I believed it was something that I could learn, or earn. I was sure it was outside, or above me. That it required striving. So I picked a path of longing–where God was deeply desired–but surely separate. This yearning was a hot hunger coursing inside of me.

Notice: all about me.

My very striving kept me apart from the truth of what I am. What I am is purely nothing. Not separate from anything.

It’s exactly what you are, too. The whole magic show is that. Unearnable, unlearnable, untouchable–because it has no objective qualities. And wholly here, if we simply turn around and look. A fresh, spare look.

I am deeply grateful for crushed illusions.

© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2013
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