The wave contemplates the concept of Source and its perception of self. It looks and sees that it is made of the water. And within itself it sees the sunlight and the wind. It looks deeper and sees that earth and space is there too. The wave is related to the lake and the lake is related to the clouds and the rain, and the grass that grows and the animals that eat them. It is the raging river and the frozen arctic ice. The ice cube in the lemonade and the newborn kitten in the kitchen. And the whole earth, the galaxy and all the galaxies in the universe, and all the other universes; unfolding, expanding, Source experiencing itself.
The wave knows that she is wave or not-wave, and snow and mist and thunderous waterfall; sequentially and concurrently. In the present moment a wave is writing on snowflakes that became a tree, drinking a glacier sitting on a cloud in the milky way. And in the here and now a wave is breathing and knowing, and channelling reality.
Nowhere to be except here. Nothing to do except smile.
First posted on Long Dark NapTime of the Soul.