Once upon a dream not too long ago, while sailing sleeps silent gate in the vicinity of the Constellation Crux which harbours the Southern Cross, our pilgrim found himself immersed in unmarked writings, wordless readings, and silent teachings, for he now understood that nature was his true teacher, however not so much that he hadn’t abandoned a life of books and study but the true measure of that study, enveloped and afforded him the real test of insight which he called intuition, instinct, a sixth sense.
The stuff of the mind is calm in one instance and treacherous at another just like the river where beneath the surface are rip currents, trying to pull the flow of water into opposite directions. Indeed some will drown in the waters we swim in.
And what great ocean will we find our Pilgrim circumnavigating just as assuredly as Magellan did in days of old? Why none other than the cosmic ocean, the same one where Vishnu dreams the universe into being for isn’t that what we’re doing, dreaming our lives into being. So we set sail in a boat made of dreams through an ocean made of stardust.
*Image courtesy of Pixabay