Let’s look at something that’s so absurdly simple it can be hard to see. 
There’s really just one thing in life. One thing that’s real.
People call that one “thing” a lot of names. The names are not the thing, but because we use words to communicate—and because the one thing happens to be invisible—attaching words to it helps us see it.
Energy, life force, Wisdom, Mind, God. The name you use doesn’t really matter.
The point is, everything…literally everything…is that one thing.
And, it often looks like there are many things. Life looks complex.
It looks like there are dogs, couches, pillows, and laptops (in my line of sight, right this minute). It can also look like there are snoring dogs, aggressive dogs, and hyper dogs.
Good dogs and bad dogs.
Thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. Your thoughts and my feelings. You, me, them. The past, the future, and the present.
When human minds get to work—when they focus on concepts, ideas, objects and other things of form—the result is complexity.
Complexity and separation. Boundaries and dichotomies.
But perhaps one of the most important things we can realize is that separation is just the human mind putting on a show. Your mind is showing off for you, proving how deep and creative it is.
Complexity is a creation of the thinking mind.
Thoughts, feelings, behaviors and objects aren’t really distinct. We conceive of them that way. They are one energy taking very temporary forms, like the ocean taking temporary form as waves.
We see separation, but that doesn’t mean separation is real. We can also see connection. Nonduality. Oneness.
We can feel into that bigger reality. Before our conceptual mind fires up, life looks like that.
As I write today, it’s my baby’s 6th birthday.
I remember looking into his eyes and him into mine six years ago today. I don’t know what was running through his mind, if anything. But I’m pretty sure he didn’t think Mommy, hospital, food, cold, why are you looking at me like that?
I’m guessing he just saw. I know I just saw, looking into his eyes for the first time. When cheesy love songs and romantic movies talk about everything fading and time standing still, this must be what they mean.
All, Is, One, Alive. He felt and expressed lots of feeling. He nestled and rooted and slept and waked.
So did I, until…how much does he weigh? and whose nose does he have? came back. Separation and boundaries. Your nose, his nose, weights, measures, concepts and conventions.
And always, also, is the one thing that never changes. It takes form as nothingness and it takes temporary form as questions and feelings and cooing and compliments.
It’s all one thing, recycling.
It doesn’t much matter what you’re looking at (the temporary form) because it’s all one thing anyway. Anger, grief, and fear are the same thing as joy, excitement and pleasure.
Complexity is amazing and wonderful. Have you ever looked at a droplet of water under a microscope, or awed at the grooves and folds of the human brain?
So is simplicity. They are two sides of one coin—but “sides” aren’t real. They are one in the same, really. It’s nice to know that simplicity reigns when life’s complexities don’t feel so comfortable.
When boundaries and illusory separation hurt (as they will, eventually), it’s nice to remember the truth about them.
They aren’t real.
(Watch this for more)
