I suddenly understand the nature of being, the secret of consciousness, the story of time. So there is nothing left to say and no one to say it to.

And yet, each day for more than 50 years I awoke not knowing this, and lived my life full of feelings, emotions, memories, and stories.

Just this morning, I noticed my mind dreaming, making stories. I noticed the stories came from my feelings. My feelings came from my thoughts. My thoughts came from all over the universe. They came from the past, as early as yesterday and as long ago as infinity, with many many mini lives lived by me in between. They came from the last dream I had just before this first moment of awakening, where I, still the silent witness of fast flowing consciousness sensed for the first time my own eye, so shy, so humble, so ubiquitous, so invisible. So free, cannot even be captured by the loving self of memory. Who is this DIVINE EYE?

This invisible watcher I now know, and just met, is always probing the known universe, reaching with senses into a vastness of creation, the treasures of reality created before this first moment.

The all is everywhere, but when you look back at everything, it isn’t there. I can’t see the forest in the tree. That is the smallness of being me.

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