Remembering Self

I have a feeling that everything in my life is completely shadowed by an inpenetrable state of being long before I was born. Like when you wakeup and remember your dreams, or when you wakeup and remember yesterday: from a pure state of total purpose and intention my life has come to be--and evermore to be.

This idea that I have lost memory of who I am, of lives before, of my "time" outside life, is itself the memory. The acknowledgement that perhaps there are memories is itself the memory. The acknowledgement that I exist right now at all is the presence of a memory of something, whatever it was (probably nothing, but still the state of everything), ever present in all that is me--in all that is existence.

In the presence of sadness, of joy, of whatever, so there lingers the presence of presence itself: the memory of memory. I remember remembering; somewhere in my being I have set out to live a life, and I am living this life, and still, as present as the day I were born, as the day I were not born, I linger still.

I have a feeling that all of my wondering is the presence of memories of all that I am--curious and growing. I wondered so much, I sought so much spiritual influence, so much psychic awareness and awakening, and among it all was not necessarily what I was looking for, but the acknowledgement that all that I was looking for was real itself, already, deep inside me, linger in all aspects of my life and timeline, even outside it. Somewhere, beyond all time, before I were born, and even now, an indestructible me pushes on. In times of wishing I were dead, I would not let myself die. A purpose: What is a purpose? When we remember that we set out into life with our own purpose, we remember that at the root of all we can possibly fathom is a choice to exist in any state of peace and possibility, in a life where we lay.

It is now that I realize that I have never forgotten anything before my life: I've only thought of different things. Instead, all the moments I've noticed total bliss and appreciation, harmony, and perfection, it is there in all this desire and craving for more (whom some can reduce to a single word called "love" which I prefer to elaborate on with terms of anything gracious/desirable) that the memory of who I am has shown itself. In all the times I've wondered, it is there that the memory itself has refreshed itself. It is never that we were separate from the memory of pure bliss, but only that we had thought there was something more we needed to expand upon the horizon. It is when we notice fully that the joyself itself is the true memory of all that we've ever been that I believe one can say that they are truly on their way to remembering their self in an exceptional place of clarity.

I wish to hold you...

I want to hold you and make all of your pain melt away. To hold your paws tight in my hands, and kiss you. And make you feel at peace. I want to know you so much more.