Welcome, dear friends, to this journey of returning home to ourselves.
Each morning, we emerge from one dream only to step into another—the vast dream of existence. In this dance of duality, we tread the delicate line between the seen and the unseen, with one foot grounded in the physical and the other reaching for the infinite.
This dream world, shaped by our conditioning and perceived through the five senses, is a masterpiece of the mind—the very fabric of our three-dimensional reality.
Here, all things emerge in duality: light and shadow, joy and sorrow, stillness and motion—each a quiet echo of a deeper truth, calling us to remember.
Like two sides of the same coin, these opposites shape the landscape of human consciousness, pulling us into the ever-unfolding dream of Maya—the grand illusion, the world of appearances.
As we navigate this world, we find ourselves ensnared in its intricate web, like a fly caught in a spider’s trap. The dream pulls us in; its symphony of sights and sounds weaves a mesmerizing tale in which we lose all sense of self.
We become entangled, drifting between identities—sometimes the dreamer, sometimes the dream, and sometimes the very stage upon which it all unfolds.
“Much like the dreams that veil the night—where we become the actor, the stage, and the tale itself—this waking illusion it engulfs us in its spell, dissolving the borders between truth and the shimmering echo of a vanishing mirage.”
The world pushes and pulls as we struggle to stay above the waves, yet the current is relentless. Again and again, we forget.
And yet, there is refuge.
The Zendo is a portal, a sacred threshold where the world is briefly left behind. As I step through its doors, I shed more than just my shoes—I release the dust of the day, the weight of my thoughts, and the residue of worldly entanglement. My phone, the connection to endless distraction, is set aside.
The bell rings, and I approach my cushion, preparing this small space for the vast, infinite journey back to myself. I bow in reverence, embracing this moment—an opportunity to return to presence.
At first, the mind resists—thoughts surge, old patterns tighten their grip, and the echoes of the world still murmur within me. Yet, I sit. I breathe. I watch. I rest in myself.
Here, the essence of “just being aware” flows in and out, fleeting yet ever-present, like a whisper of light weaving through the shadows.
Slowly, the storm within begins to settle. And then, for a fleeting moment, stillness is no longer something I reach for—it simply is. A deep, silent bliss washes over me, nourishing something ancient within.
Here, in these precious moments of stillness, I remember. I awaken to myself.
Then, the bell rings and time is calling me back. The world awaits. I clean my cushion, mindful of the invisible dust it may have gathered—the remnants of thought, the fragments of illusion. I bow once more, honoring the sacredness of simply being.
Stepping through the door once more into the world of appearances, I am aware that the clamor and turbulence of the world await their return.
One day, perhaps, I will walk through the world and not be of it. One day, stillness will not be a refuge I retreat to but a state I carry within me—unshaken, untethered, awake.
Until then, my friend, I will keep dancing. I will cherish the moments of peace, celebrate the stillness when I find it, and trust that no matter how many times I lose my way, I can always return home to myself.
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