Imagine having nothing to look forward to,
Random images called the past, fading, gone.
Imagine the speechlessness,
Of finding this here, without a word to name it.
Never repeating, this moment.
No other moment impinging,
Upon the sense of it all.
Imagine.
It is not a different moment than this.
There is nothing else.
Tag! You’re It.
You’ve heard the words “hiding in plain sight?” All around us is the obvious, only overlooked. Somehow, we manage to pay more attention to all the pain and suffering, in favor of the wonder, the intelligence, the inseparability, of everything around us. It’s here, waiting to be recognized. We have only to be willing to forgo the seduction of, the addiction to, the drama we call our lives…just look around!
Every single thing is revealing a glimpse of the whole. 
From the sublime to the ridiculous; 
from that which is too tiny to be seen to that which is too colossal to look at directly; 
and from the terrible to the precious.
Look, everywhere, with eyes willing to see the gift of this shining apparition.
The Miracle waits upon the eye that sees.
When 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
You are creating a world.
Not the you that you think you were, are, or will be, but the One and Only You; The Creator and The Created.
There is the you that would call this moment-world boring, lovely, or tragic, just as this you seems to have a given name.
But this You who really is, is not only content, but quite amazed, that this world is being created.
And that Amazement is You.
Nameless and faceless You are the space which gives rise to everything that gets named.
You are the emptiness, the capacity that makes room for the world.
Be, and be overwhelmed with the wonder of it all.
Because You are all of it–the boring, the lovely, and the tragic.
When you name its parts–me, you, awful, wonderful–you separate them out, as if you could.
Only pretending, only always.
And so the drama goes. You who is Shakespeare writes the play.
You are the stage and the audience, the laughter and the tears.
You who is the Father/Mother does not play favorites.
Because You, this house of many mansions, holds it all, embraces everything, everyone, every moment-world.
Behold: Nothing is left out.
The Deepest Peace 