We are the children of a new age — and we have gotten very high. Yet it feels like our ambitions are so much higher than our situations.
After the initial bliss of higher consciousness — the rush of hope from the masters; the incredible encouragement from falling in love; and getting stoned — we find we’ve reached the garden. But how do we keep that feeling alive?
For the masters, like the stars, guide, but do not compel. Their words weave spells in our happiness but become so illusive in our pain. Our lovers, so beautiful and understanding, are still beings as ourselves, anguished by their own doubts, driven by their own needs. And the sweet weed, the alluring psychedelics — even when they take us up there, how long are we really gone?
Tonight I am alone, and all the “necessary people” are not here. And in this aloneness I am somehow to find my answers.
And even with the loneliness and the aching, I am aware of the teacher inside, guiding the lost child, soothing the jealous woman, reminding the lady I am of what is going on.
And I know I must trust the teacher inside, and listen carefully for her voice over the roar of my emotions.
For there is no one outside waiting!
There is no master coming for my deliverance.
There is only my beating heart that bears the secrets, and only when I accept my own divinity will I understand it.
Is it pompous to honor yourself?
Or foolish to wait for “the miracle”?
They have told me for so long not to wait for them, but to find the light for myself.
And our own lessons are all we really have to learn from. My own heart is the only garden to explore. All the truth is somehow already planted there.
All I need is to trust.
Like a lover who will not be possessed, the masters offer the ecstasy of life, but cannot promise to see it through with us.