Aloha, my friends..
I remember Lisa, that there seemed to be that she. Lisa was the name given to the body who types this. That body/mind was apparently born, had mother, father, brothers. There were homes, schools, husbands, children, thoughts, feelings. What else? Some friends, dogs, cats, a couple of gardens, a bunch of books and some decorative items. OK. That about covers it.
I remember Lisa, it is not possible to forget because all of that is still intact. It’s just that now it’s obvious she was never real; joyfully laughable that it had ever been thought she was. It was imagined there could be an ‘I’, a ‘me’ that owned a body, a life, things, thoughts, feelings. In the end, she owned nothing, for she never existed.
I remember Lisa. And now I am beginning to forget, but only the attachment, for that’s where the mistake was made. She thought she was real. She thought she suffered. She thought she caused the suffering of others. None of that happened by her. All of it merely thoughts, taken to be something of substance. It wasn’t. It all came out of the nothingness, the emptiness that is the source of everything. All of it here and there and everywhere simply what is, which is now called this. So funny.
I remember, maybe always will, Lisa… a no thing, a no body; no mind, no feelings; a name for nothing at all. Handy, albeit suffering’s source, while it lasted. Lovingly gone forever; never really here in the first place.
She will not be missed. She will simply not be missed. Does the sky miss a cloud that dissolves? Do butterflies miss caterpillars? Does the ocean miss a wave that rises, peaks, falls?
Can that be missed which appears from nothing, only to then disappear back into it?
I can only continue to be what I am. Everything… nothing… space, fullness, emptiness, completeness. Here, now, as a body/mind with a dreamname, a dreamlife. And if the thought Lisa returns, perhaps it will stay for a while, perhaps not. No matter either way, despite thoughts and feelings that may arise around it.
All of It is… All That Is. And the love of It is It. She never knew this, and now she’s gone and never will. She never could.