"You know you want to," says my mind as I attempt to open the portal to this particular place in the blogosphere. I want to write something that will have meaning to the ones who read this. At this time, I am the only one reading this place and space. Only one other person knows I am here in this guise. Maybe she'll check it out, maybe she won't now that I've commented at her place, finally, successfully.
The thing is, though, I've advised her to take her time of illness and use it as an opportunity to do the inner work that seems so necessary to keep one's self from being stuck in a place of ill health. It is the inner work, I suspect, that determines whether one stays or goes from this plane of existence. It is the inner work that I am convinced I have come here to do.
A being of Light. A being of Love. A Be-ing. If my life is the dream I am dreaming somewhere else, then why would I need sleep to check back in with that life? Why can't I stay awake all the time and live this dream? Why must I check back in with that life that exists in a seeming state of creation? It seems to have a lot of twists and turns, unexpected rhyme, reasons not yet revealed. And yet here, in this life that is dream the very same things can be said. Is this proof that one exists on more than one plane at any time?