Consciousness Answers Itself

If we consider consciousness to be personal—dependent on our mortal body—then it would only be through our activities that we could approach the source from whence it came. The only paths, then, would be to devote our lives in some way to something we understood to be the door to this pure source of loving wholeness and aliveness.

This would be to place ourselves in the eternal waiting room of heaven, hoping we were on the right train. If there were moments of peaceful wholeness, aliveness, and universal serendipity, we might conclude that we are—and then faithfully follow the path with all our might. As long as there were some stations of peaceful aliveness and wholeness on our chosen railway line, we would remain faithful—equating these as the effect of our devotion to the root. And this faith, it has to be said, is a form of loving beauty in itself.

However, if consciousness is universal, then it would surely prove this by the instant reward of the peace of heaven in the here and now. There would be no waiting room. No path. The glimpse of true nature—and its instantaneous peace, aliveness, and wholeness—occurs as we investigate its qualities. In so doing, we go beyond the mind’s limited ability to recognise and confine this beingness. This is consciousness answering itself.

This glimpse breaks the mind’s limiting hold and causes it to doubt its confident assertion that consciousness is limited. This doubt quietens the mind, reduces its noise of limited thinking, and allows the peaceful wholeness of simply being to shine freely. As consciousness knows itself directly and shines its qualities freely, the universe we perceive is transformed instantly into a form of our being—becoming our protective body rather than our enemy.

From that freedom, there may arise the desire to rest as this universal consciousness, for its own sake, in a form some may recognise as meditation. But this should not be mistaken as a path to it—only a joyful expression of it. Then, it is understood: it must be consciousness itself that becomes blind to its own nature—failing to glimpse its boundlessness—that has given rise to the belief it is personal and bound to the body. Seeing this, we can accept that even this blindness is part of the freedom of consciousness—to awaken or remain unseen—as one movement within its unfolding. In this seeing, the path opens for our being to forgive, rather than condemn, itself for those moments of forgetting.

With love,

Freyja