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Chapter 26


 Spaciousness


 


 

I had a real canny dream the other night. I was doing things, I don't remember just what it was, only that it was small, perhaps insignificant "doings". I did them over and over again, as if was I trying them out from different angles, and every time I'd finished "the task" I found I had been doing it right. This highly confused me, that no matter how I did it, I did it the right way. In the dream I thought: "no, this can't be, it just can't. If I do it this way and that's the right way, it can't be right when I'm doing it that way". But it kept on being right. It was 7.00 am when I woke up, and I was totally exhausted by pure confusion...!  

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There is space around my actions. I know this may sound as a matter of course, but, to me, realizing this came as a tremendous relief. It wasn't until this came clear to me I got aware I had actually lived in the conviction that every single one of my decisions and actions was of an absolute importance. Absolute importance for what?, you wonder. Well, I don't know actually, for everything, maybe? I haven't been conscious about it, yet the conviction was always there, somewhere in the back of my brain, in umbrageous control of all about me. Yes, it was there as a threat, not as a promise. I'm hoping my being aware of this now will make my life somewhat easier. Perhaps I don't have to worry back and forth so much no more? Perhaps it'll take some of the loud off of the weighing of all (un)imaginable consequences in every alternative for every step I take before taking it? I'm hoping maybe now I can be more, I don't know, but be more ... well, me.
          I'm hoping that if one specific act of mine should be, for one reason or another, of some utter importance, my spirit will guide me right, if I just listen. If I listen and look for spiritual guidance as best I can, inwardly and throughout, if I thus work with Trosslan, aligning my will with her, maybe then I'll get in harmony with The Great Song of Existence, a song in which perhaps I am but a shift in a tone amongst all of the other tones, shifts, tunes, minors, majors, etc, which together conjoins to constitute the wholeness of the Song.
          I'm hoping that even when I forget to listen, or misunderstand what I'm sensing; if there is a place my spirit wants for me to get, if, for example, (S)He wants for me to resound a special key in one tune, I will get there and I will be that sound, no matter what. There being spaciousness around me, within me, might make space for going astray from time to time. I hope so, because this, by implication, should mean there are many lanes of strand ultimately leading me to the place I'm heading wherever it is, and whether I know it, or not.

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A new dream arises. I'm back in my worrying state of mind again, in over-thinking how to react, how to interpret other persons doings and words, how to find a way to respond to it all in a proper kind of way. I don't know what things really mean, you know really, at the core of their absolute intent, so I try and I try to figure it out in my head. But try as I might I just can't get it sorted. Then the odd thing happens that a relative of mine, who passed away a year ago and who's spirit I helped cross over at the time, comes to me and suggests he can temporarily change place with my dad as a father-figure, this way showing me a different path of understanding. He explains this can come about, as a good thing, since he is not carrying the traces my dad and I share, hence has a different point of view. Through his sight and perspective on matters he then shows me just how some of my interpretations still are tainted by suspicion and, thus, fear. Having him in my dad's place, as a different-minded father-figure taking me through dead-end lanes I've been entering over and over, puts new light onto some hitherto unseen fear-tentacles in my mind, and I can literally sense their hold over me loosen and fade away. In this differently nuanced light I get a differently nuanced understanding with regard to the matters I meet.
          Next thing I know I'm walking through the house where my room once was. The whole building has changed. All the while I'm there I have the feeling I'm revisiting a place I haven't set foot in for a long, long time. As I walk down the corridors I notice the big changes having been done to the house since my uncle took my dad's place. I'm not thinking anything much about it, but I do see it, noticing it carefully, and I sense a tinge of wonder about it. I reach the door behind which my own room used to be. I push it open and look around. Everything in it has changed, save the oval octagonal shape it has always had (in the dream, not in reality). But this is also the only thing remaining the way it once was.
          When I lived here the walls were painted read and gold, and it was furnished with lots and lots of things and ornamentations. Looking into the room now I remember this with a sting of melancholy piercing my heart. But my overall impression is that the room is now very functional and appropriate for its new inhabitants. The walls are all painted white, and they have put tables in an octagonal formation in the middle of the room, following the shape of the room itself. The tables are also white, and on them are put computers and computer related stuff, all connected to one another. Yes it's very functional and I can see how practical it must be to have one room for just computer work.
          I never enter the room, I just stand in the doorway looking in, gazing at it all, taking it all in as it is, sensing the sting of melancholy in my heart as I remember how it used to be. But the sting is a soft sensation because I know I have left this room and that's good and as it should be. Then I turn around, I close the door behind me and I walk back the corridors from which I came. A serene, flowing feeling is running in my veins as I move along. I like this feeling but it's a little bit mixed with the melancholy still pounding in my heart. In my mind the thought that I don't live here anymore is vaguely present all the time, a thought trickling a sense of loss into me, for this house do hold some happy times in memory. But, this is no longer my home, I am just revisiting it one last time. I have left and it is good.
          I wake up filled with an unfamiliar sensation. I lay awake in that feeling, experiencing it without thinking anything in particular. Then, maybe just a minute later, I fall back asleep, and a new dream begins.

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I find myself in another kind of house, a two-floored wooden lodge. When the dream starts I'm at the second floor, preoccupied with some calm activity. Then suddenly a former colleague of mine appears. He was the head of the department when I left, and now he has come to finalize the account with me. It's a cold and unsympathetic man, and he is cold and unsympathetic when he claims one thing after another as belonging to his department. I know, though, that this man can be quite warm, funny and human too, because I've known him for many years. It wasn't until he got promoted his cold and unsympathetic side got the better of him. And it's this side of him I'm now facing.
          He claims the most odd things from my house as belonging to his department. I surprise myself by my calmness, and by responding not to his rude behaviour but to the actual requests in themselves. Some things I give him freely even though they're not his to claim, saying something like "if you want it you can have it, I don't mind". Other things I won't give him, simply because I like them, and as the rest of the stuff he claims they do in fact belong to me. In those cases I calmly explain to him that I've purchased them on my own and so he has no right to claim them.
          This goes on for a while. Then our consultations get abruptly interrupted by an overwhelmingly high-pitched pinging sound coming from something flying over the house at a speed faster than sound. Whatever it is it has an enormous force in it, and so it totally capture my attention. As this happens my former colleague somehow just vanishes, and all there is is this mighty, powerful force outside. I step to the window and look up towards the sky. And there I can see them; it's two Trossles coming swiiisching and swooosching back and forth over my house in super-speed! They look like two gigantic celestial phenomenon, like two orange suns or stars, like two witches riding their brooms in such exuberant joy they trespass the speed of sound in pure happiness of the movement itself.
          Although I immediately recognize them as my beloved Trossles they still scare me a little. Both due to their enormous speed and the vast force they hold, and also because I'm thinking "but what if I am mistaken, what if it isn't them, what if this is a freak force of nature? What will happen if I trust them to be what I believe they are and it turns out they are not?" But my dubious mind can't hold me back from them for long. I gaze out my window once again and I can see them, I can see the pure and perfect love and happiness shining in their wonderful faces.
          I don't how but the next thing I know I'm out on the yard, waiting for them to come swiiisching and swooosching by again. I am still a little afraid of the hugeness of their force so to be on the safe side I lay myself down on the snow-covered lawn, thinking it might be dangerous to be standing when they come swirling by again, because then maybe I will get sucked up in the whirls they leave behind. So, there I am, laying on the snow-covered ground, waiting for them to come once more, feeling rather ridiculous, small and a bit anxious. And then the man I've only met in my dreams arrives.
          I recognize him immediately as the one. The one who came to me in the beginning, the one who came again and made unrestrained love to me in the peculiar hotel room a few dreams ago, the one whose features I never can distinguish but know and recognize instantaneously with all of my heart and soul none-the-less. He steps out of a car (a Volvo, for some reason) and starts walking towards me, carrying what looks like a big wrapped pot-plant in his arms. There is a huge and omnipresent stillness and peacefulness about him, there always is, a stillness now so forceful it is visible to my naked eye. He has such an enormous presence it encompasses everything else.
          My first thought is: "Oh no, it's HIM, and here I am laying all ridiculous and silly on the snow, how terribly embarrassing!" He looks at me as he approaches, and I look back at him, searching for that glimpse of judgement in his eyes, the sign he has seen how ridiculous and unworthy I really am. But it's not there. Not even for the briefest moment. I know, because I would have detected it if it was, no matter for how short a second. It's just not there.
          His gaze so mild, so soothing, so calm and peaceful, and yet so immensely forceful is totally and completely lacking all kinds of judgement. It makes me dizzy. To look into his eyes is to look into Absolute Love Itself. A love so pure and so complete nothing else exists, a love so whole nothing but Love can co-exist with it. I can't explain how it feels like to meet his eyes, to be seen in perfect Love. I've simply never experienced anything even remotely like it in real life. It fills the whole of my being with a peace and joy so profound it goes beyond words and imagination. All my fears just dissolve as I loose myself in his gaze, and in the space thus left free a deep sense of longing and yearning arises. A longing and yearning rooted at the very core of my heart and soul, a joyful waiting for him to reach me, to sit down beside me. Yes my friend, it kindled alight a yearning so vast and so powerful it blew my mind. To just be, in his presence, to be seen by him, literally lifts my spirit on high. Amazing gaze!
          After a few paces he is with me. He sits down next to me and places his gift in between us. He doesn't say anything, nor do I. It's like words are insignificant. It confuses me a bit this doesn't make me feel awkward since I'm used to handle everything with words. But it doesn't feel awkward, it feels perfect, as could it not be in any other way. I glance at him again and start opening the wrapped package he brought. As I do this I get aware of afield reminiscences of how I ought to have an attitude about it, you know, how I should present myself in a cool and casual manner in relation to opening the parcel. I feel these reminiscences as echoes in a far, far away distant within me.
          A bit uncertain again I look up into his eyes once again, and as I once again meet with him beholding me the way he does, the remaining echoes fade away and I get filled with the strangest sensation that I can be what I truly am, beneath it all. It's an amazing thing in itself this, to be just the way I am, without any facades or attitudes, in his presence of all the man who means more to me than anything. And even though this is so strange to me somehow I doubtlessly just know it is so, and somehow I doubtlessly just know it comes from the pure and absolute love that He is.
          Being in the presence of pure and absolute love, a love that holds no judgement, no condemnation, no distance, is what instantly liberates me from all my false sense of needs to present myself in a suitable manner, my attempts to constantly try to be someone other than who I am. Being in the presence of pure and absolute love, in the complete absence of judgement, I feel no need to remove or add anything to the one I am. On the contrary, the real me, the me that I am beyond adding and removing, is the one me He sees, the one me He Loves immaculately. Being in the presence of pure and absolute Love creates an all-enfolding peace and harmony within everything that I am.
          And so I can open the package he's brought me in a way reflecting my true feelings. I know the gift is not mine alone, it belongs to Him as well. And, it belongs to the one within it, which is exactly how I want it to be. It's the strangest thing but it's like I knew all along what was in the parcel: a child-flower! Yes, it was as had I sensed its content since the moment I laid eyes on it, although I wasn't aware I knew until it was with me.
          As I unwrap my gift, piece by piece, the most lovely and happy little child-face peeks out from within it. It's a girl, a girl child-flower, maybe five years old, and she is so very, very happy to be part of this peekaboo game where all of her beauty and preciousness unravels one piece at a time as I open the package. Her eyes radiate with the pristine joy you can find only in the eyes of the innocent child, and she laughs a tinkling, sparkling, ever so happy laughter as she meets my eyes beholding her dainty being with unveiled joy, showing all of my awww's and awe. She is a Trosslelago, oh yes, there's no doubt in my mind that she is!
          All the while this opening game of ours continues the man looks at us. His gaze wanders from me to her and back to me again. The love in Him never changes. He looks at the child with the same love as He has looking at me, and I find to my surprise this hurts me, because I want Him to look at me with just a tiny bit more love than He has looking at the child. So I'm in the presence of absolute love and still I'm hurting, deeply and horribly I'm hurting, because I want Him so much, and I want Him to want me, only me, to yearn for me and desire me with the same absolute and overpowering passion I have for Him.

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And in the end God said:
Let there be Love!
And there was Love, 
And the Love so engendered in the Living Heart renewed was so mighty and absolute
nothing but Love could persist in its presence.
And a New Sun arose,

And there was Peace.
And my heart was happy, so very happy.

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