Picture a grain of sand amidst hundreds of grains of sand. Take your time. You are watching attentively a small patch of white sand. The sun is high up. Your face is against the ground, practically touching it. Rest your chin on your fists. You are lying down, relaxed, unworried. Just admiring this small patch of white sand.
As you breath, the air that you exhale blows away some grains of sand. But not the one you're focused on. This shiny, diminute grain is still there because you breath carefully so that you won't blow it away. The sun is reflected upon one face of this tiny prism. It is a prism, you know? You would perhaps need a microscope to see this. But, then again, perhaps you have imagination.
The intensity of your stare makes up for it. You can almost feel its prism-like quality. Some undefinite part of your body reaches out and caresses the fragile facets of this jewel.
You are dreaming-awake. Even if at a novice level, you are dreaming-awake. Then you realize that your whole life is but dreaming-awake an arbitrary dream. Why not explore other dreams? Why not?
* * *
Stand up. Your eyes must adjust to the light, because it has changed. There is a bright on your eyes, like a thin shiny film, that filters the sunrays. The world has a dream-like quality for a brief moment.
The immensity of this desert in front of you almost makes you faint. So many dunes, such a distant horizon, so many shades and lights.
So many grains of sand. Almost infinite. Go on, count them. Make some calculations.
"500 grains per cubic centimeter, 5,000,000 grains per cubic meter, 5,000,000,000,000 grains per cubic kilometer..." Thousands of kilometers ahead of you...
But that's just on the surface. How deep is the desert? How many grains of sand are floating, invisible, in the air?
To avoid passing out, you look down towards the same grain of sand that you were focusing on. Another infinite number of atoms blow up right in your face. There's no relief in there.
And, then, you look up.
* * *
You are looking at dead stars. But time and space conspired against death. You are alive, and the definition of being alive could well be looking at living death, at dead life. You don't know. That light left its source thousands of years ago. Millions, perhaps. Were dinosaurs roaming the Earth and calling at the moon with their deep, strange voices? Was Earth even alive then?
The star died, but the light kept traveling through eons just so that you had a chance to lift your head and look at it. Can you be indifferent before such a powerful gift? That star lived and died just for you to look at its light. How long is your life? It's but a blink of that star life span. And, still, the star wasn't more important than you.
How many blades of grass will grow from your body when you die? How much light will travel from your body, that body made of pure energy, when you die? Which beings will look at your light and feed on it and wonder upon it when you are gone, after it travelled through that eternal loneliness for eons just to reach their own living light?
Look at your hands. Do you know why you can look at them? because of the light. Not only the outer light reflected upon them, but the inner, sparkling light behind your eyes. You are living energy up to your last pore.
* * *
Count the stars. Don't be afraid. Humble yourself before the terrifying algebra of the universe. And, then, count the galaxies.
You have reached a second of inner silence. You are seeing. It's as simple as that.
* * *
And all the grains of sand, all the atoms, all the galaxies, are but one world in an infinite number of worlds. You can't perceive but a grain of sand amidst all the possible worlds. Still, your wildest fantasies can't grasp the whole grain of sand of your perception. Everything you can think of, conceive, imagine, dream, long for, fear, is out there. And many more things.
This is intent. It has to be.
* * *
There's no real or unreal. There is only perception. In a perceptual world one nagual is fake and the other is real. In another one, the opposite comes true. There's nothing to discuss, nothing to talk about, nothing to defend because reality, perception, has no limits. It is infinite. Eternal.
So, how do you choose? A complete, full grown man or woman, also refered to as "warrior", must believe in something. It is but the human nature.
Every conceivable situation is a prism, a grain of sand, a diamond. There's no real or unreal, only facets, only perception. Reality is what you perceive.
Again, how do you choose? All facets are esentially the same: just facets. How do you live? How do you find your true nature, your freedom?
Choose with your heart.
* * *
After all this, do you still want to come back to feeling self-important? To talk about yourself? To discuss "reality" and "truth"? I certainly don't. I am beholding infinity, with my mouth open, in a grain of sand.
So alone, so free,
Enrique
