The Whole Revealed, Wherever the Eyes Land

Every single thing is revealing a glimpse of the whole. crossection: blade of grass






From the sublime to the ridiculous; tumblr_mlojfd7B101qz702oo1_500







from that which is too tiny to be seen to that which is too colossal to look at directly; nuclear-banner

and from the terrible to the precious.6cd1e9b02ecdd84ca0f7f74678278fec







Look, everywhere, with eyes willing to see the gift of this shining apparition.

magnified sand grains








The Miracle waits upon the eye that sees.Through a Child's Eye, by June Stealth

Specialness: The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Snow WhiteWhen you see through the need to be special, no one and no circumstance can hold you hostage. And lo and behold, everyone else appears to be just fine.

But first, you need to look and see, to find, that need. If you’re in conflict with others, it’s there–no matter how humble or self-effacing the facade. Sometimes, those who have a secret not-special identity, and who Ironically tend to be experts at letting others know they’re not special, seem to have the greatest need to be special. It’s just harder to see, harder to find, but running the game (the separation game) nonetheless. Pain is running the game, often disguised as self-assurance, or even arrogance. Spot it; you got it.

People strive to be special simply because they don’t feel special. Those who can’t abide specialness don’t either. Forgive it all.

Specialness is the ultimate gatekeeper, the burly bouncer at heaven’s door. Oneness precludes special. You can’t have both, and there really isn’t both, only the painful illusion of special and not-special. They are the same misapprehension. It hides well, wears many masks. Look for the need to be special, and/or the adverse reaction to seeing it rear its head in others. Specialness is the perennial itch that gnaws, whether you scratch it or pretend it doesn’t exist. It is the pea that keeps the princess/prince in constant discomfort, obscured as it is by so many mattresses.

The need to be special will knock you on your ass, over and over. Or, if you pay it no mind, it will slowly, silently, take down your house like a drywood termite. The false self, this character we play, will always strive to be special, boldly or in stealth, but it will never succeed because it is false; because it is only a character in a short-run play. Because it is not real, even in its most stellar moments.

Postscript: all posts here are written from personal experience. This ain’t book-learnin, nor is it a YouTube-generated epiphany. What I would learn is this: I am neither special or not special, but I have discovered it is a very heavy suitcase to lug around, and when I stop long enough to open it, it is surprisingly empty.

“Specialness is the seal of treachery upon the gift of love.” ~ A Course in Miracles