The Everythingness of Oneness
Right at this minute, I am looking into your eyes, and I am looking out through them as well. I am looking out through your eyes, and I am looking into your eyes as well. You know what I mean. We are One, and you are coming closer to that full understanding. Knock, knock, I am the only One here. Who can be knocking at My door but I, Myself. Who can answer the door but I Myself, and the Myself that carries the wayward identity you call yourself.
We have an interesting relationship, you and I. We dance, we sing, we seemingly dance apart in order to swing back together again and whirl across the Universe.
We go steady, you and I. We see each other everywhere We look. I see Myself in everyone, and everyone is yourself as well. All eyes are on Me. There is no else.
I suppose you could consider Me your shadow. It's not like that. I am your Inner Being. I am the wheat germ of what you call yourself.
We have been dance partners, if you can call Us that, for a long long time. There is no one new to meet. We have been going around the mulberry bush forever. I AM Myself. You are Myself.
Let's dance from star to star and find Our One Self. Let's play that the One of Us is two. That is the game We already play. The One of Us is a winner, so We can say that the two of us are winners as well. How can there be more or less of Us when We are All and there isn't anyone else? There is Oneness, and all the rest is an illusion called something else. The something else is often called loneliness or separation or fear or solitariness or independence or self-sufficiency or anger or distress or misunderstanding or another indigestible name.
Let's become more familiar with Oneness and all its layers. The world is complete in Oneness. That is all there is, this Everythingness of Oneness. Oneness talks to itself. It dances with itself. It plays many parts. It can only play them, assume them, take them, act them, and consider them all-consuming and build a life around them. Oneness seems to have many dramas and comedies up its sleeve.
And yet Oneness is pure and not divisive. How can Oneness that is All That Is have so many monkeyshines and allow hurt, anxiety, and so on? How culpable is the dance of Oneness, whirling and twirling with itself, planting trees and underbrush and deserts and oases, canoeing along lakes it makes up as it goes along, plucking stars from a night sky, dropping their light off in streetlamps, making firecrackers and holidays, making a splendid tour de force, setting alarm clocks in the dawning light and beating drums and gongs, gong gong gong. One heartbeat dissembles even when there is no one to dissemble it with. At the same time, We cannot call this game a game of solitaire for there are many cards to be dealt and many hands to collect them, shuffle, and play again. It is a rummy game this game of life We play and believe in so much.
We have imagined that a detour is the main thoroughfare. Of the same street We have made street fairs with rides and urbanity with skyscrapers and sun and wind flowers in handcarts on corners. We have made corners. We have made circles, and nature entertains Us with all its blooming, and We are, We are, and We are One practicing on Broadway, as if this multiplicity were something other than Oneness.
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