On the fading of the former self

ghost image

Simon is largely gone now. God rest his soul (figuratively speaking, with a smile).

Well, he is a costume I can put on sometimes. A role to play for the sake of friends and family. But the reality is there is no energy in the old personality. The props are exposed, the drama just a play.

What remains is infinitely better. The ego paints its life across the bliss of existence, blotting it out apart from little chinks of light called happy moments.

What a relief! I can remember that old self with something like affection, as if for a movie or television character once loved. Han Solo or Steve Austin ha ha.

His impulsive nature to grab at everything because he found life to be like a kid in a candy store. What’s on this shelf? In that Jar?

Life, with joys and sorrows, triumphs and tribulations. A play without a narrative.

But now? Thoughts, feelings appear in awareness. The architecture of the body/brain is the same (yet the mind transforms) but no ego driving. Lightness. Patience, but not torpor. More like a frog on a lily pad, perfectly still, but should a fly happen by, ACTION. Natural, spontaneous and correct for the situation.

The heart, open. Loving. Open like before lovingness was the light coming through pinpricks in a shoe-box, to an ant inside. And now not just the lid is lifted but the shoe-box is gone.

Good to walk invisible through a crowded street. Everything is the same, but utterly different. Invisible. Stealth. Peace. Kindness. Love.

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