mahamudra – the space beyond the page

perspective really is everything and nothing at all. isn’t it curious how we hold them? or refuse to?

a diamond is just another rock to the man stuck in the mines… he knows someone is enjoying it, but it surely isn’t him, there, in the dark deeps with danger and dust that is choking his life away every second so some young girl can feel loved and a young man, proud that he can afford to make her feel so.

my grandmother… she was just another body to wash to the nurse. she was an angel to the people she baked for when they had no food. she was a demon to one who got between her and us. she was hope to me.

me… a rowdy and unrepentant fool, perhaps even insane, perhaps merely misguided, perhaps only ignorant. me… tender caregiver, voice of comfort and reason when the night is too dark, or her boyfriend has said goodbye. me… comfort over miles to one who has no one, and who is so eaten up with self-loathing that a day when suicide doesn’t occur is a blessing. me… a competent professional, someone who may be counted on, someone who is loyal.

who is that man? that grandmother? that me?

they are who we need them to be, and who we fear they are, and who we hope they are, and everything inbetween to any and everyone met.

do you ever think about infinity? i mean really think about it. here, try it…

first, imagine that every moment, every moment you have lived, there was the thing you might do, the thing you didn’t do, the thing you almost did, and the thing you actually did.

now imagine beyond it.

imagine that — from every one of moments, chosen or unchosen, the very next moment has the same choices… waiting to be made.

now imagine how they all continue — branching and branching and branching… how long can you follow the paths until they run out of sight? one moment? three? five?

how long until the sheer weight of all that possibility rips perspective away?

how long before the page upon which you are imagining this just… disappears?

that space — the space just ‘behind the page’… what if it everthing there is just as ‘possible’ as the ‘reality’ you ‘know’ right here, right now?

what if that page that holds all those imaginings, what if it is ‘your mind’?

what if the only thing keeping you from infinity, being able to know it or just being able to really have the freedom to choose differently in any moment is just… perspective?

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