We Are Here

The heart is sacred
Just as you and I are sacred

Two years ago at about this time of year I made my way to a weekly meditation class and paused beneath the cloudy New York City sky to marvel at the sight that appeared above me. In that moment it seemed as though I had never before seen a cloud in the sky, so strange were the shapes, depth, textures, colors, delicateness, layers, and vastness of the clouds. After class as I walked with my teacher to the subway station, I recounted to him my experience with the clouds, still amazed and troubled at the intensity of the experience. He listened in silence and then encouraged me to continue “seeing” the clouds for as long as I could, mindful that the experience was likely to fade. The confusion of the experience passed but the wonder remained with me, and to this day every time I step outside to walk my dog the first thing I do is look to the sky and then to Dante before we begin our journey together.

Just like the stray dog
Just like the wrinkles of an old woman’s face
Just like the sweet refuge of calm waters
Just like the branches of an ancient tree
Just like each and every breath

Wonders exist all around us, if only we could see them. The life we know as we pass through this world is greater than any dream or fable, and yet most of us are unable to see it that way until we have a child. Once a mother or a father looks into the eyes of their child, they behold the miracle of an entire family made present in that one beautiful, helpless being. In the eyes of that one insignificant being already destined to die one day, the mystery of every life that will ever exist anywhere is revealed. They find a family worth dying for — and more importantly, a family worth living for.

On the tree of every family, of every people
There are many branches
Some are foolish men, others wise women
Some are hopeful children, some cynical elders

If there are beings like us elsewhere in the Universe on planets or moons orbiting stars, it seems likely that they share our experience of family, even if their biology dictates forms of mating and reproduction that differ from ours. Life as we know it arises within a community, continues by means of community, grows by means of a community, and endures by means of a community. That’s the entire purpose of family. In certain circumstances we even look beyond our own flesh and blood to others and regard them as part of our family. If we encounter beings like us from some distant place in the Universe, they, too, might wish to become part of our family and we might wish to become part of theirs. And if for reasons of physics or biology we are never able to be directly and physically present to each other, by the very fact of communication and shared experience of the nature of life we still might call each other family.

There are farmers and beggars
There are peoples of the forest
There are peoples of the sea
There are peoples of hate and war
Some are deaf and blind
While others are oracles of an impossible future

Once we thought we were alone in the Universe. Today it seems unlikely that we’re alone. We have yet to understand what it means for us if there are other beings like us somewhere in the Universe. We will need a novus habitus mentis, a new way of thinking and relating, if we wish to befriend such beings. The task of developing a useful novus habitus mentis will take time, patience, and love — rare commodities for any of us individually but practically infinite when we come together for a great purpose.

The embrace of a grandmother
The compassion of a tree
The infinite expanse of the human heart
These will endure forever

There’s no reason our species should have survived on this planet, since the vast majority of species that ever existed on Earth are all extinct. Our survival was not inevitable and yet we are here. We ourselves are more amazing than dreams or fables, and if we ever encounter beings from some distant place in the Universe, surely they will recognize that.

Even if we don’t.

~BT Waldbillig
June 15, 2017

The Two Lessons

When we focus outside ourselves, ultimately we realize the equality of ourselves and all other beings. Everybody wants happiness; nobody wants to suffer. Our attachment to our own happiness expands to an attachment to the happiness of all.
~Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche

Many years ago as a seminary student I had occasion to know an elderly woman who confided in me that on several occasions she received visions of Christ and the Virgin Mary. These encounters always happened in the dead of night and so I assumed they were simply pious dreams, but the woman’s experience was of something unlike ordinary dreams. Now, I’m not one for visions or inspired dreams — I regard them as little more than distractions from the greater mysteries that surround us in every waking moment — but I felt unable to dismiss out of hand the woman’s accounts for this reason: her entire demeanor changed and she became almost radiant whenever she recounted to me her other-worldly spiritual experiences. She was, in some way and for at least some passing moment, transformed. Even transfigured. In addition to the positive emotional content of her experience, the rational, discursive content (the storyline) was simple, useful, helpful and entirely traditional.

Luckily I had been formed by spiritual teachers and personal confessors who honored the experience and respected the conscience of anyone who might seek spiritual counsel. So I simply encouraged the elderly woman to be thankful for her dream-visions and then to get on with life as best she could, carrying the positive mental states — joy, hope,  loving-kindness — into her difficult daily life. Naturally, I have no personal experience with extraordinary dreams or mystical visions, but I imagine that being thankful and then moving on would be the only way I myself would be able to deal with that sort of situation, as the weight of so intense an encounter with transcendent reality might be too much to bear. Or at least that’s what I thought at the time. Truth be told, I think taking a walk with the dog or savoring a proper meal or spending time with family would be more useful and beneficial than a thousand visitations from gods or angels or saints.

Not so long ago I wrote a letter to one of the world’s most important Buddhist spiritual teachers to ask his thoughts on this sort of thing. Much to my surprise, he personally responded with a warm, direct, thoughtful opinion, even though he did not know me and surely already had too many people demanding his attention. This great spiritual teacher put it in Buddhist terms: While a madman might think himself sane, an enlightened person would not regard himself as mad, even though to the world he might seem mad — just as Jesus was called a madman in one Gospel account. The enlightened person would recognize that the true madness arises from the habitual, delusional ways we think, feel, and live. Plato’s Allegory of the Cave describes the experience: either we are so overwhelmed by a clear vision of reality that we retreat to our comfortable delusions or else we accept the reality we encounter and when we share this with others who stand outside our place of experience we are regarded as foolish or mad or even wicked.

It is a shame and unfortunate that through our own fault we don’t understand ourselves or know who we are.
~Saint Teresa of Avila, The Interior Castle

Somewhere I wrote of the lessons my parents taught me when our family dog died. My mother consoled me, wiped my boyish tears, and taught me not to run away from the pain of life. My father taught me to be strong enough to rise up from the place of tears and honor the suffering of the present moment by burying the dead dog. He told me that if I’m strong enough to do this as a boy, as a man I will be strong enough to triumph over any obstacle I might encounter. How lucky I was to have such wise parents!

Today, midway through life’s journey, it is clear to me: The Two Lessons — the lesson of the mother and the lesson of the father — are both necessary. We become more truly human, free from the madness of life, when we look at our experience of the world for what it really is, when we stop pretending that we can escape loss and pain and sadness. And once we dwell in the place of tears for as long as we need to, we have the ability to rise up and start our journey, offering a saving hand to those still lost in the place of darkness.

The journey begins with one person. If one human being can make the journey from darkness to light, pass from death to life, it means all of us can do it. No matter how unlikely or impossible it seems.

~BT Waldbillig
May 24, 2017

Honoring a Tree

The other day as a friend and I were walking Dante through the neighborhood, we paused in the corner of a nearby park to marvel at the trees. One tree in particular, low with wide-stretching branches and abundant shade, has stayed in my mind. I didn’t tell my friend, but I had to stop myself from climbing up into this particular tree to rest for a moment on the longest and sturdiest branch.

When I think on the Exodus encounter between Moses and God on Mount Horeb, I imagine the burning bush to be something like the tree in the park that Dante, my friend, and I couldn’t ignore. My friend spontaneously embraced the tree as if she were greeting a long lost family member. (I guess this means I have a friend who is, literally, a tree hugger!)

Just before passing by the tree we had been talking about difficulties in life but in that moment when she gently drew the tree to her breast as if it were an infant or a grandparent, thoughts of sadness, suffering, failings, and discontentment vanished from my mind and I couldn’t help but smile. Only a smile could express what I experienced in that moment thanks to my friend — words and thoughts were of no use to me or the tree.

For his part, Dante marked the tree as if he, too, were honoring it. No one will remember that I stood for a moment in awe before the Horeb-like tree, but the dogs, the squirrels, the birds, and the insects will know that Dante was there. I would have it no other way, truth be told, since it was a mongrel dog who gave me a reason to continue my journey when I wanted to give up on myself. He taught me that the true place of favor is wherever we find ourselves in the present moment, that the auspicious moment is always now. Hic et nunc — here and now — is all we have and all we need. Dogs understand this better than you and I do.

The trees, the insects, and the birds were here before our kind stood up tall to begin our journey and they will likely be around long after our kind has disappeared. How amazing that, for a brief moment, we walk among them accompanied by friends and dogs,  beings who love us always, who protect us in moments of trial, who teach us best with a smile or a nuzzle. The world would be a better place if each of us were more like the friend and the dog — strong and faithful, never abandoning those we love, united like a family that endures suffering and survives death.

Had I journeyed through the park yesterday without a friend and a dog, I might never have stopped before that one particular tree to behold something of the mystery that great spiritual teachers like Moses, the Buddha, and Jesus discovered long before I came into this world. What they experienced directly and personally, I experienced only faintly and at a distance, as if in a dream.

One day no one will remember that you and I passed through this world, but human beings will always remember the world’s great spiritual teachers and heroic spiritual friends. When, at last, we travel to distant corners of the Universe, we will carry the memory of our teachers and friends with us.

~BT Waldbillig
May 22, 2017

Plucked Flowers and Fallen Leaves

“One should pay no heed to the faults of others, what they have done and not done. Rather should one consider the things that one has oneself done and not done.”
~Dhammapada

When I was boy — I must have been four or five years old — a recurring dream frightened me so intensely that often I would wake up in the dead of night startled, calling out for my father. Still half asleep, he would wander down the hallway in the dark to comfort and calm me so that both of us could get some rest. In the dream I saw myself hovering above a green meadow dotted with yellow flowers and surrounded by a dense forest. All of a sudden I began to plummet, terrified as I was unable to halt the descent. This boyhood dream returned to me about ten years ago, though now with one curious difference — as I fell from the sky I experienced joy in place of fear. Now as I plummeted to Earth, I beheld a crowd of people below in the meadow waiting for me, smiling and laughing.

“Why do you seek the living among the dead?”
~Gospel of Luke

There is a Zen story in which the Buddha stands silent before his disciples and simply holds up before them a plucked flower. Of all the many disciples present, only one, Mahākāśyapa, perceived the transformative spiritual teaching that all the Buddha’s words could never so directly or perfectly communicate. Mahākāśyapa could not suppress his smile and the Buddha knew that at least one of his followers understood the silent teaching. The story is almost a thousand years old and was probably formulated in China at about the time of the birth of Saint Bruno of Cologne, founder of the Carthusian Order and follower of the silent path.

You and I are surrounded by plucked flowers and fallen leaves, sparrow eggs safe in a mother’s nest and chicks passed too soon from this world. Like Mahākāśyapa and Saint Bruno,  we have the capacity to find in the precariousness and impermanence of this passing world a source of hope and joy to sustain us in moments of difficulty and darkness.

~BT Waldbillig
May 1, 2017

From Darkness to Light

Stat arbor
Dum volvitur orbis

The Tree stands still
While the Earth spins

Almost ten years ago I came across the spiritual autobiography of Karen Armstrong, a respected scholar of religion and former Catholic nun, as well as British television commentator and one of the authors of the international Charter for Compassion. Through the course of her spiritual crisis in the convent and afterward as she tried to construct a life in the outside world, Armstrong was dogged by discouragement and feelings of failure which led to a period of severe depression. Many years later as she reflected on the path she had forged for herself, she realized that in her youth she looked at the spiritual life as unfolding along a straight line where we’re either going forward or retreating backward. Progress or failure. Now, in later life, she prefers the image of a spiral staircase: In any given present moment, it seems as though we’re stuck turning in circles, while in fact we’re very gradually ascending, growing or progressing in ways that are hidden or difficult to perceive. Only after much time, great effort, lots of failure, and a fair amount of luck can we perceive our true place.

Many people live in close contact with the frustration, desolation, discouragement, and despair that Karen Armstrong experienced. Some choose to abandon their spiritual endeavor altogether, but most do their best to continue despite the seeming uselessness of it all. It’s not unlike other great undertakings in life — marriage, vocation, friendship, education, or positive social transformation.

The way forward
Is the path of return

We all need some kind of help or encouragement or support or sage advice in time of desolation. Often we’re bitterly aware when others respond with silence to our own difficulties, though usually we pay no attention at all to the even greater struggles of those we love.

Fortunately, simple realties — understood for what they are — lead us back to the place of compassion. Something simple like a plucked flower, a fallen leaf, or a crushed sparrow’s egg has power to awaken us from the darkness. So does a kind word, a spontaneous smile, an outstretched hand, or the embrace of a family.

The moment of despair
Is the time of great hope

The history of our kind shows that once in a very great while some momentous event occurs that plunges all of us into the darkness together at once. In those past moments when we were tempted to think all was lost, our kind always found a source of power beyond imagining.

In our day, we do well to recall that we are not alone. Together, not abandoning even the smallest or most useless among us, we wait in darkness for the appearance of a bright shining light that has already begun to dawn.

~BT Waldbillig
April 24, 2017

At the Arising of a Spiritual Family

The causes of death are many,
Those of staying alive are few,
These too can become the causes of death,
Therefore always perform the practices.
~Nagarjuna, The Precious Garland (n. 278)

When I was young I did not understand how precarious and uncertain life truly is. Only now, mid-way through life’s journey, have I seen how easily the life of a man, or indeed his entire family, might disappear so completely that beings in some later time might think him only a fable. Somewhere I wrote about the urgent obligation for a family of blood to transcend useless attachment to the love of some and the hatred of many, and in so doing become a family of spirit, transcending common barriers of vain self-interest and outwitting the wise and powerful of this world.

A family of blood alone or flesh alone is easily exterminated, whether by chance or by the design of those who call themselves righteous, superior, and pure. But a family of spirit is indestructible, impassable, unfailing, capable of accomplishing even the most impossible of noble tasks. Such a family -embraces every son and daughter as a loving father does. It stretches back in time, to an age before beings of our kind looked up to the heavens for signs. It stretches forward through time to realities you and I cannot even imagine. And if there is some knowable reality that stands outside of time completely, this family reaches even to that place.

But the true marvel is this: you and I have the power to bring into being this family.  Now, in this very moment. If we choose to. Each and every one of us, in the way we are best able, has a part in the arising of the spiritual family.

For this reason, somewhere Nagarjuna says this:

You should always analyze well
Everything before you act,
And through seeing things correctly as they are
Do not put full reliance on others.

Here he’s not speaking of self-reliance in the modern American sense. The ancient Indian master refers to something more subtle and quite important: When power is concentrated in the hands of a few men, some (perhaps all) of those few men will use it to wicked purpose, making themselves like unto gods, determining who merits life and who deserves to die. Or perhaps they will be foolish, like the mindless farmer who is unable to recognize in the loss of a single ear of wheat an abundance of bread that might have fed the hungry.

Those who seem reliable and trustworthy often show themselves to be nothing of the sort. If only one man or only one privileged group possesses power to bring into being a spiritual family, then the family is doomed. For this reason providence has placed a generative, spiritual power within every member of the family.

The creative force that brings into being the spiritual family stands not outside us, but within each of us. Each and every one of us can bring forth from within this power to give life and create the spiritual family. Perhaps those beings whose compassionate love and dedication to life we fail to appreciate also have this power. Perhaps there is a secret hidden for us in the rocks, in the water, in the trees, beneath the flowers, beyond the stars, and in the heart of a dog sitting at a boy’s feet.

Now, our kind is capable of acting with wisdom and generosity but the cycles of history show that rarely do we manifest our more noble nature. The famous phrase of Pascal comes to mind (I’m paraphrasing): Those men who mistakenly regard themselves as beings higher than angels, such men are destined to become the most hellish of beasts. Let angels be angels. Let beings of flesh and blood be what they are.

For this reason, a spiritual family belongs to no one single manifestation of the universal spiritual path, for human language is not capable of fully and completely communicating any reality, let alone that which is altogether beyond words as we know them. Some members of this family follow one god, some many, others none at all or something altogether different, but all members of  this family are united by love of life and compassion for one another — despite the many irreconcilable and contrary beliefs that exist in this world. Within the spiritual family, some are poor, some rich, some kingly, some little more than mongrel dogs, some well known, others yet to be known — there is place for all. They hide themselves in every place of power and among the powerless, indistinguishable from those around them. The sons and daughters of the spiritual family do this to ensure that on the dread day of destruction, at least some of them will endure, and the family will live on in them. This sort of spiritual family cannot be wiped out or extinguished.  Such a family will endure.

And should some Mighty People War seek the end of our manifestation of life in this world, the Family of the Great Heart will vouchsafe the continuation of life and compassion by the many means they have long prepared in silent expectation.

One day I will no longer exist in this world — just like any other man. So far as we understand, any being who comes into existence in this world eventually passes out of existence in this world. The sad mystery of impermanence and mortality shines an invincible light on the greater mystery of life manifested in fathers and mothers, in children and grandchildren, in trees and flowers and dogs, in wind and water and rocks, in pain and love and loneliness. You and I have encountered all these realities through the course of our brief lives so far. Perhaps they have inspired you, as they have inspired me, just as they inspired others before us, and will continue to inspire beings in need of hope long after we are gone, never to return to this present world.

For so long as there is a present moment in which we are able to become friend to those who seek a friend and a family able to welcome those in need of family, that moment will be a time in which life can thrive and flourish and invite and inspire.

Lest I paint too fantastical an image, the secret is this:  All we have to do is love each other. It is that simple, yet most of us think it impossible entirely. As Cardinal Newman wrote somewhere: We begin by loving those who are nearest to us — ourselves, our family, our friends. From the sure love that exists within the spiritual family, we are able to expand our experience of compassionate-love until it grows as in an ever-widening circle and embraces even those regarded as unlovable.

Here, in the present moment and within the spiritual family, we find a place where life begins, a means by which life continues, and a shining beacon of hope for all who dwell in this world and in the worlds to come.

~BT Waldbillig
April 20, 2017
– – – – –
Hymn of the Spiritual Family

abbe gaud
albe gaud
nonce laud
ver bend
pae don
bend en harc

Rejoice, the Father comes
Rejoice, the Rising Sun brings dawn
Let all proclaim the praise
Truly we are sacred
To our Father and to His Master
We are blessed from the very beginning

By Means of a Mongrel Dog

Throughout human history, some few of our kind have claimed to encounter beings from beyond what is commonly understood as our world. Some of these men and women believe that strange beings come to them in their dreams and they call them visitors, angels, gods, messengers, demons, spirits, or even friends. Ancient cave art bears witness to this, as do many ancient spiritual texts, some of which are still read today and even regarded with honor by hundreds of millions of people around world.

I myself have no personal experience in such matters, but I am left to wonder. In their dreams and visions, humans always regard the visitor with awe or fear or reverence or astonishment or bewilderment. In some future time, when we communicate with or even encounter other beings like us from some distant part of the Universe, it’s likely that we will know the same feelings our ancestors felt when they reported their visions and dreams. But is it possible that such beings — if they are real and not merely dreams — might also regard us with awe or fear or astonishment or reverence or bewilderment? Might they feel small, just as we feel small before the vastness of the Universe? Would they marvel at the mystery of life manifested strangely and wondrously in alien beings, just as we would?

I think on my dog, Dante. He and I are made of the same stuff and inhabit the same world, yet at times he seems to me almost like a god. Without a word he communicates the wisdom of love more surely and powerfully than any human I’ve ever known. And when life itself seems useless, he leads me back to the joy of a world that’s full of meaning and purpose. When the mind is stuck in the past or lost in the future, Dante calls me home to the only home any of us has — the present moment. The mystery of life in the Universe is revealed to me every day not by great men or noble deeds or eloquent words — but by means of a mongrel dog.

If a creature so common and lowly as a dog has such power, imagine what you and I can bring to pass in the Universe!

Should we encounter, some day in some far off future, intelligent beings like us from a distant place in the Universe, imagine what good and wondrous things we might accomplish together — as friends and perhaps even as family.

~BT Waldbillig
April 13, 2017

You Who Seemed a Fable

After the rain
There is silence

As on the first morning
Of that first spring day

When the world was fresh
And full of hope

We climbed from the pit
You and I laughing

You turned to me and smiled
The first smile of creation

So I chased you up the hill
Through the fields of yellow flowers

Beyond the tall grass
Through the great forest

When I caught you at last
(You let me catch you!)

We sat on a rock by a tree
At the top of the world

And the first leaf fell
From the first tree of creation

So I held you in my arms
Like my child, my only child

I rocked you to sleep
Watching you dream your last dream

You closed your eyes
For the last time, the first time

You breathed your last breath
And your breath became the wind

I opened my eyes for the first time
For all time when you woke the world

I shed the first tear of creation
For you and it filled the world with water

Even today when the wind stirs the flowers
And shakes the leaves from the trees

You are remembered
You who seemed a fable

The silent wind unnoticed
Moves even the mighty oceans

Bearing men aloft like dreams
To new worlds and new hopes

So did you move my heart
Without even a single word

And now the silent ones
Remember you and call you back

Though I am gone
Never to see you again

You are father and mother
You are brother and friend

You are love and family
You found me and saved me

So long as there is light
So long as there is life

So long as the gentle breeze
Plucks leaves from the trees

So long as there are yellow flowers
And tall grass in the meadow

Until the last mountain disappears
Beneath the waters my tears

This will be our temple
The sparrows our priests

Just like that first day
When you pulled me from the pit

When we danced and laughed
And thought the world would never end

~BT Waldbillig
January 18, 2017

We Are Nineveh

By now we have understood that we are not alone in the universe. In a moment such as this it behooves us to leave aside the old, habitual ways of thinking, of relating to one another, of communicating, of projecting our place in the universe, of holding vendetta against our brothers and sisters and their descendants.

Let me share with you a dream I had not long ago:

I found myself on a terrifying field of war standing before the temple of Mars Ultor. As I attempted to offer sacrifice at the temple, a vicious war dog suddenly appeared and charged at me, knocking me to the ground. As I regained my wits, I saw the war dog next to the sacrifice, turned away from me. The war dog urinated on the sacrifice. Unable to control myself at the sight, I began to laugh. At the sound of my laughter, the war dog turned toward me, no longer hostile and bellicose. I approached the majestic creature and, climbing on his back, set off on a long journey.

It is not clear to me that our kind will endure in the universe. Certainly if we continue in our old ways of being and doing, there is no hope at all. Let me repeat that: No hope at all.

We have heard the Prophet Jonah cry out: “Forty days and Nineveh will be no more!” You will recall that the people of Nineveh changed their ways and reformed their lives, sparing their magnificent city a most terrible fate.

Today I say to you: “Forty days and Nineveh will be no more!” The choice is ours. Either we change our ways or our kind will perish from the universe.

Lest all this seem too grim, I should say that when I asked Dante the Little Man what he thought would happen to the humans of Earth, he laughed and kissed my face.

I, too, am hopeful and confident that our tree will endure unto endless ages. May it be so.

~BT Waldbillig
December 7, 2016

On Choosing the Path

Most people live a life that is more or less laid before them at birth. There will be a few options along the way, naturally. One may choose this or that school, this or that career, this or that spouse, this or that religion, this or that house. But rarely, very rarely will one choose the person he or she wishes to be. There are reasons for this. The most vulgar reason is that parents find it in their own interest to control their children, whether for motives of ego or more practical concerns like ensuring someone will provide for them in old age. Any child who chooses her own path may well choose something that fails to benefit the parents. In a far more sinister way, society establishes customs and institutions meant to proscribe the identity of its citizens. By enslaving citizens with, say, the debt of a mortgage, or by excluding them from seemingly desirable social inclusion, society maintains a stranglehold on the freedom of those citizens. In this way, people are forced to dedicate themselves to pursuits that neither suit nor benefit them. We have only to think on forms of commerce or war that appear to benefit society and yet are highly destructive to the well-being of an individual.

Luckily there are always people who, while few in number, embark upon the foolhardy endeavor of finding their own path, of creating an identity for themselves rather than accepting the grotesque mask handed them by others. Perhaps they are mystics or thinkers, artists or wanderers, prophets or poets or madmen. Perhaps they are beings of another sort that a small mind like my own cannot comprehend. Most of us avoid them; few, if any of us, understand them. Yet, they serve a most valuable role in human society: They remind us that things are not what they seem in life — whatever we think reality is, we can be most sure that is precisely what it is not.

It behooves us to recall the human tendency to delusion. The greatest obstacle to choosing the path is not family or society. It is always oneself. To radically embrace all that it means to be human — and in the process to become free without being selfish, to become a true individual without being individualistic — is a terrifying task, and when fear is a way of life, as it is for most of us, we’re unlikely to confront the challenge. You and I are more likely to be bohemians or contrarians than prophets, more apt to be professional religionists than mystics. Yet somewhere in all of us there is the seed of radical living. The fact that some human beings have already broken the bonds of spiritual fear and existential conformity gives hope to all of us. A different life is possible.

Since I was young, I’ve had the tendency to make the wrong choice at crossroad moments; or make the right choice for the wrong reason. This is my experience! Once I was quite fixed on becoming a great man, performing great deeds and I was certain that by my forties (I’m 43 now) I should be well along this path of greatness and the world would be better for it. That was delusion, naturally, but I will not call my childhood aspirations nonsense or belittle that former me. I was a child, after all, and children should be encouraged in their noble aspirations; yet sooner or later one must understand that dreams offer no abiding home. That is a painful and necessary lesson.

And so this morning I awoke from my dreams and understood that I’m not at all far along the path: I’m at the very beginning. Perhaps only a fool or a madman would take comfort in this but for a human being to awaken from dreams, even midway through life, is an immense grace, as most of our kind never awaken at all, never realize, even for a moment, that they are lost in the realm of shadows.

The journey ahead is long and arduous; many never complete it. Many more never even begin it. In another forty years I may find that I’m still at the gate, still waiting to begin. Or perhaps I’ll find you and we’ll share some part of the journey together. Today is a new day and for each of us a new life is possible.

~BT Waldbillig
December 4, 2016