Do You Remember?: Whispers From A Spiritual World

by Arlene Graston

my world appears not to exist to anyone but me. I am told it is not real. That I am merely dreaming. Yet, is to dream and to imagine not the source of all human experience? And are we not all Dreamers, makers of worlds?

And yet―and yet―there is in this tiny cluster of Infinity a me that thinks and feels and paints pictures.

Today my heart is reaching, reaching to show me Understanding, and Understanding is standing under me, but I grasp it not.

You have wondered where I come from. You only wonder because you don’t remember your own origins. We come from the same place, you and I. I speak in puzzles, you say. Yet you listen carefully, for what I might say next is a source of great hope to you. You tell yourself that next time you will understand what I mean. You want to very much. I have come to tell you to listen to your inner song. You are, in fact, a song. Your song comes out in words now. Do not be afraid of these words; they are merely symbols that you use for a little while.

I am a Child, murmurs the Heart that lives within me.

This resonated so deeply with me

Do not analyze the construct of being human; it is not who you are. You puzzle over the dilemma of being this thing, and you suffer from trying to make yourself worthy, because you feel you are a mass of confusion, full of error needing correcting. In constantly correcting yourself you are placing yourself in a prison of your own making, for you convince yourself that you are not one with life. You convince yourself that your life will best be lived tomorrow when you are a better person.

How can I reveal what my heart knows? Can I even tell myself?

Do you hear what is being said here? It has all been done for you. You do not need to search for it, climb mountains, construct bridges, or refashion the wheel to have it. It is what you are now. Trust, and make this knowing yours.

You are made for dreaming, but you have looked only to dreams made by other dreamers and not to your own.

You walk in the quiet of a dream. It is nothing more than a dream to which you have given your attention, and within its path are guideposts that you can trust as you climb the peaks of your current perception in this fantastical observation you call your ”daily life.”

“I have long hungered to remember who I am, and have looked to many others for the answer, dear Flower,” I whispered.” Human thought has frozen my soul.” The flower nodded. “It is a truth you now understand at last. Free yourself of the world’s thinking and return to the clarity that already exists within you. You are already where you want to be. Believe that.”