…there really is no such thing as “I”. There is no “self”. There is no “you” or “me”. There is only one universal consciousness. We are all one. We are all made of stars… we are stardust… we are mandalas at the most microscopic and macrocosmic level. All of life is cyclical and we are all part and parcel to the great big comedy of errors we call “existence”….
Though I cannot precisely articulate what exactly has transpired in my life as of late..I feel as though the Universe has opened up some sort of information/ knowledge wormhole in my third eye and has been taking a giant, cosmic dump for a good, solid week.
We are all part of a singular consciousness of which the Universe is comprised. Together, we are living separate lives that provide an opportunity for the Universe to view itself in all its various stages of existence; in love and fear, in joy and sorrow, in life and death. We are the living, breathing Cosmos; We are the Universe made manifest.
You know I couldn’t resist making reference to Moby with this post, right? Whatever it takes to get me writing is what I’ve got to do. If Moby is it, then I’m listening to Moby all night long. Why? Because I’ve had a bit of beginning writers writer’s block. I’ve had this post in my…