keep my eye on the ultimate goal

here's the thing. while being up to my eyeballs in the shifting sands of life i carry this unshakable conviction that whatever the outcome of any or all of those things add to or subtract from my own great self. i am, at my core, pure lights, pristine consciousness and steady bliss. as a matter of fact, as all this mishegas (o how i love this yiddish word) unrelentingly pull me in i refuse to be sucked out of the present moment. i ask again and again, what is it that i have to learn to further expand and elevate my understanding? the response from withing? pretty much the same. give up any expectation of any sort of outcome. focus on the task at hand no matter how trivial and mundane it seems to be. keep my eye on the ultimate goal. to be fully realized.

where do all those lights in the dream come from?

sleeping 7000ft above sea. bright and vibrant dream. lots of laughter, back and forth and activity with my meditation teacher. at several points i am working with a bunch of yogis to mash lots of ripe bananas and mangoes because the teacher says to me with a bright and kind smile, we have to feed a lot of people. so much fun.

i wake up with this question. where do all those lights in the dream come from? my eyes are closed. the room is dark. the lights have to come from within me. i am sleeping but someone is watching and understanding all that unfolding dream drama. who's that? then it occurs to me this is the same one who watches that suk wah being pulled here and there by thoughts and feelings. this is someone who sees and gets it. indeed. i can safely say all that in the external world are some form of dreams. i have so much lights within. beautiful lights. pure lights. happy lights. lights of courage. lights of strength. lights of kindness. lights of generosity. so on and so on. no end to the abundance within.

deadliest residual habitual tendency

a dream. i'm walking by the back door of a hall where my meditation teacher had just given a public program. two of my classmates from secondary school in hong kong are with me. my mind is open, quiet. the door opens wide and my teacher walks out. pure lights stream out from her. sweet, gentle lights. warm, bright lights. sublime lights holding hints of all hues in the rainbow. i pause in my track. in the dream i have no expectation other than enjoying her presence the way it is. out of the blue she turns in my direction, walks a few steps forward, and with a beaming smile asks me directly, is there a bus? i take it seriously and say, yes, it is at...she cuts me off with a delightful chuckle. i realize she is joking around, loosening me up. then she hopskotches away, singsongs, i have two hatha yoga teachers.

i tell hwubby all about it. he says, it sounds like a happy dream. i say, yes. no sooner than i said it i felt a whisper in the far horizons of awareness. no, you can't be that happy.

right away i see it for what it is. the deadliest of all residual habitual tendency. unworthiness with its extended family like inadequacy, not-enough, not good enough, not have enough, etc, etc, etc. i just watch it while holding my attention tight as i can on the flow of the breath. i'm determined not to feed it with any other thought. period.