NONDUALITY AND THE MAGIC OF EXISTENCE

When you were a child and you looked at the plush balloon like seats, velvety, of a car, and lost all sense of yourself for the stare. Or, when you looked without trying out windows and saw the scene, autumnal, dusk, maybe even sad somehow, and the pane of the window, though painted white, was chipping. There was no difference between the outside and the inside, no filter, and huge existential terror, for nobody, just a pure sense of terror, mixed, totally against any reason known to any species in existence perhaps, with a pure sense of bliss and God (for nobody). It’s like a dream that is come to life. How in the world did we get here? And how come all the souls are not walking around in absolute wonderment at it all? You saw a tree, and were the tree and the ground and the sky behind. But that is not. It can’t be put into words. Even if the person you are comes back and claims and experience (and how could it be otherwise in order to communicate or be in this world), there is perhaps some memory at the least. Of…when you were a child and you looked at the plush balloon like seats, velvety, of a car, and lost all sense of yourself for the stare.