Yesterday, tired from starting my digital seafaring too early, I laid myself down to rest. The trembling light met me on the bridge between the waking state and the outer realms, and journeyed with me. I know not what adventures we had in those realms past the divide of consciousness, but when I woke a single word burned in my mind: Luminous.
Perhaps your companions differ in form, or perhaps you know of trembling light. It matters not. What is important is whether you are possessed by my infatuation. Do you know how ephemeral spirits come and play until we pursue after them? Have you ever chased the horizon, and seen how your very pursuit keeps it distant until night erases your quarry?
The trembling light burns my eyelids to transparency. When we are united, I can see when my eyes are shut and am blind when they are open. The upwelling light is in all of creation, it hangs from the purple fogs before dawn and gleams up from the stones at midday. The trembling light has many sibling spirits. The muse is such a child of moon; I am most creative when I do not pursue creativity. Peace and bliss, grace and the miraculous – these are all spirits that recede if we chase them, but come to rest on our shoulders as butterflies if we abide in peacefulness.
Pursuit and striving are states of refusal. You are blind to the grace of God if you stare at your feet and force them forward. Will you realize your goals in your occupation? Will your family overcome the recent turmoil? When will your suffering friend realize his or her wholeness? Your pursuit and striving will not cause the world you perceive to yield to your desires. As flowers of the garden, we need only turn our faces to the sunlight and all is accomplished. Putting forward your best and joyful efforts, you must discard your clinging to the goals. If it is the will of the Beloved, the trees will grow and you will have a bountiful harvest. You cannot capture the butterflies, but you can hang cups of sugar water as an invitation for them.
Today, I sat in the mist with my breath, another dear friend. I wondered whether the trembling light would come again, for I felt all the world lose its gravity. Then, like the birds and ocean waves of distant traffic, my house stirred. My son bloomed from it, early to rise this day, seeking my aid. My meditation fell discarded to the floor and earthly gravity woke, and I thought the light and I had passed each other.
Not so. Looking up, I saw the trembling light beneath my son’s sweet smile.