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Heloisa Moura's avatar

This beautiful dream begins as sensations stir—a tapestry of feeling weaving into form.

Then comes the sacred rite of birth,

a seeming fall from the womb of oneness,

into the echo of separation.

In that instant, a glimmer of identity takes shape—

a constellation of being-ness,

believing itself to be apart,

adrift in a world of colossi,

many bruised by life, and so, not always kind.

From this mistaken fracture blooms the ache:

the sting of abandonment,

the shadow of unworthiness,

a trembling hush of fears wrapped in tender skin.

Yet this, too, is the sacred story—

the myth of forgetting,

so that remembrance may dawn with grace.

So ask not just to feel the pain,

but to peer through the veil—

To gaze upon fear and hurt,

and see only mist dissolving in the morning sun.

Like Buddha beneath the Bodhi tree,

may we pierce the dream of division,

and behold the truth that never left:

We are, and have always been,

the vast, undivided presence—

whole, awake,

already home.

🙏

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The Long Game's avatar

Justice is the only true therapy. Critical mass approaches.

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