I didn’t know them, the people I awoke to find watching me in the middle of the night. They mostly sat silently in polite repose, eyes imploring. There was the midnight I woke to the old man clutching, grabbing the blanket at my chest in a crush of terror that wasn’t mine alone. I sent them away, closed the door because I didn’t know what to say to them. Now I know that there is the awareness you seek, and the awareness that finds you. I know that we midwife one another’s births and rebirths, in this world and the next. I know that some turn away from the light at the end of the tunnel but don’t find the way back to their life, and it’s okay. They find their way eventually, perhaps with a little help from someone who’s learned how to travel those places outside place, beyond time. When I met the soldier there he asked me if this was heaven, sir, and I smiled and said you don’t need to call me sir, and sure, I suppose this is heaven in a certain way. I’ve met strangers and people I’ve loved and still do, and felt that love undiminished between us. I’ve spoken in an eruption of rose petals, and returned with a gratitude of tears. It’s easier than you might think, since thinking doesn’t help. There’s being still, then the letting go, tuning the mind and you’re off on remarkable flight. It doesn’t matter what anyone else has told you, you’ll find who and what you need to find. As your heart sings in connection to stranger or old friend, you’ll know what to say.
You can learn more at The Monroe Institute.