We are just strings of memories. Or not just that…
Small apertures through which Divinity watches. Collections of here and now.
Dreamers who forgot that they dream.
There is only Now, the past is a memory, the future is another memory. Listening to the voices of the dead, perceiving present as what It Is, a great silence settles in.
Evolution, flow, acceptance. Mind as a tool of the Self. Self as a mirror. All colors, all aspects, reflected, absorbed in a continuous present.
A chant fills the space. A second to realize it. What matters?
A dream, but all that is beyond that, the Nagual. Vast spaces, all extend from the self, they are the self.
As is, as I am, connected, a rolling wave in an Infinite Eternity.
Namaste
Negaterium's Blog 