Who am I? This, I feel, is one of the most daunting questions one can ask of themselves. Few can answer. Fewer can impart what their children would say if they too were asked. Because rare is the parent that has stopped to inquire.
Through one pathway is the answer to such a question found. And that is through the path of being. Our mind instills in us a false belief that we must remain in a constant state of doing. And yet, the spirit knows all living worth the air in our lungs is done while being. Our children harbor the same exquisite soul as their adult counterparts; decades older. The soul is never held within the boundaries of time. Within a youthful child may rest a soul that has seen more lives than your own. We tend not to look at children in this way. We tend to devalue them. We tend to look at them as something we own. Like land, we stake our claim over them and want to make our presence known. These are actions based in the ego. And rarely do the guiding words stemming from the ego fall inline with the instructions whispered from the soul.
And yet, I am left to wonder how many parents can attest to the inner workings of their children. Do they sit without distraction and ask these things. Do they look into their child’s eyes and see the soul that is smiling back at them. If they were to lose that child would they know the purpose of their child’s soul. Would they know if that purpose had been fulfilled. Furthermore, do they know the purpose of their own.
These are weighty questions. And yet, it is within the words uttered when trying to articulate the divine inner scripture of one’s soul that we learn who we are.
Having answered these questions, one can answer anything. And yet, it is the question many have upon their lips when releasing their final breath. It seems to me then that this should be the one question we work most ardently to answer. The soul deserves such. When planting a seed, one ought to know what is intended to spring forth. We are not the color of our hair, eyes or skin. We are the energy held within. Four walls and a roof do not make a home. The energy contained inside makes it such.
If you give anything to your children, first and foremost it should be to introduce yourself to the energy contained within them – it is who they are; it transcends their name, their physical descriptors – it is their authentic self. What one writes as their epitaph should be the subtitle of their life – while alive. We should think less about the wrappings of the package, and a bit more about what’s inside. We do this with gifts, we need to do this with ourselves. What rests within you. This is the you your children should know. I don’t want my children to describe me as a writer. I want them to describe my energy. As it is through this energy that I write. Do not let what you produce define you. Ask instead, from what source was I able to write; from what source was I able to heal another; from what source was I able to teach. From what source was I able to do the things by which others unwittingly define me. The source is who I am. And that source is within my children. They are the source, masked under freckles and anxious eyes.
We are here to answer the question one’s ego is uncomfortable to answer. Only because it knows once answered, you will never again look to it when determining your path.
I will end this post tonight with this thought, and please know it should be welcomed as the delicious thought it is: Who are you?
Sane ~ And if asked: I am crystalline white light, nestled inside a rather dainty frame. I am not this mind that flutters like butterflies caught in a net. I am a soul that has witnessed many lives. I am beauty, because I found acceptance. I am peace. I am love. I am a small, but ever important grain from the sands of God. As are you.