Return to the garden

What if we were already holy, and there were no need for words like spirit, sacred,

divine.

What if there was only one pure, immaculate substance, out of which everything, everything is made.

We would cease to chase after redemption of our bodies and souls.

We would take our place among the rest of creation, our imagined exile

fading into distant memory.

 

To know we were never outside the matrix of Her will and Her desire. 

We did not rebel against our maker, fashioning some alien world for ourselves, bereft of purpose.

We were never outside the web of the whole of Life.

How childish, how amnesic to think we ever could be.

 

We are the cutting edge of Her consciousness.

Our imagination is Her midwife, bringing the new into form.

Our bodies are Her body, delighting in the pleasures of sensual life.

We are like swift raging water and then a fine mist rising,

a breath rejoining Her breath.

 

What if we were already holy, and this very moment was infused with presence and full attention?

If we could let go of the relentless march of thoughts

through the dry landscape of the mind…

If we could unite with our simple lived experience,

and feel it as a fullness, rather than a restless emptiness…

 

To leave behind the spiritual search and begin a new life in the Garden,

the Garden that always was and never ceased to be.

 

To depart from that desert of concepts that leads further and further from the truth.

The idea of the “spiritual” is like a furtive thief who steals the treasure hidden in our houses and then whispers to us of gold in distant lands.

The more we pursue the soul, the more the soul recedes from everything,

the more deadened our sight becomes.

 

Oh, but to awaken our senses…

To behold the perfection of what is, even in its imperfection.

To hold the paradox of desire and perfect fulfillment,

The urge to transform and keep moving, and the absolute stillness at the root of everything.

 

To take our place in the majesty of what exists: tree, star, wind, ant, rock, flower, human.

Created things are not only evidence of Her life, they are Her very life. We are She.

 

We are the One substance, the One consciousness,

already perfect,

with no need for redemption.

 

This is how we will return to the Garden.

Not through an arduous journey, but through an unveiling of our own eyes.

 

The pure and the eternal arrive in a moment

in the turn of a single breath

and nothing more.