NOEMAYA

So little do I have to say, and much is asked of me. That I may personify myself in the hopes of man, that I may speak audibly and move noticeably! All men have asked these of me, and that’s because so little does man know man. That if I were to descend into form, these same men will crucify me over and over again. Not my wrath and fear but my compassion keeps me veiled from him, for what’s ever crucified is form and not me; instead, in the depth of his heart he know, that he is better off not seeing me and not knowing me, for I am never what he imagines or ever capable of imagining. 

Yet, I love him as he once stood and still is, erect as ever but casting crooked shadows in my light. So, I choose to speak and give form to the mystery that is ever veiled, so that some may receive truths that otherwise don’t penetrate the ears of our age. 

I will tell you a bit about myself. I am alone, and so are you, for there has never been two, neither a one. To understand this, watch a child play alone. She knows more than you, for thoughts haven’t yet robbed the house of her Being. She is, and hence the play. 

And of those who try to comprehend me, I say this, that their very trying to comprehend me is nothing but me. They have me in front of their face but they know me as comprehending.   

And of those who long for me, I say this, that I am their very longing. In longing for me, they are indeed in me but they know and see me as longing-for-me. 

Everything that has a name is not me, and yet there’s nothing that I am not. 

Man has a lot of ideas, of god, creation, evolution, heaven and earth, salvation, etc.. Little does he know that in all these fantasies about what reality is or should be, he keeps missing the mark, for I am the very reality of those fantasies and ideas, the reality of the very idea of man and of being. 

And of the nature of our relationship, I say this, it exists only from your vantage point. I have no relationships. I am what you conceive of me, as a pole and a principle, only from where you stand; from where I stand, you are not; nothing is or ever has been. 

As to what people say, the sounds and gestures and symbols that flow, they are all my many names. People think they speak, but nothing is spoken but me. Everyone is telling the truth; they are just putting it differently and in an unrecognizable form to their neighbors in Being. 

Of good and evil, I don’t understand the fuss about it; they are words for the blind. 

To those who can’t think beyond, they argue “how can there be a god in a world where children get cancer!” They are so removed from their own reality; they see not beyond self-interest. And would they object with the same vigor if cancer took out the child Hitler! A superficial answer to these shallow minds: “what is cancer? What does it look like when it takes over?” Now, raise your head and look from a wider perspective instead of narrow sentimentality. What is your species? Look at how it got started, how it developed, and what it pursues!

But in all this and to those who can’t see beyond form, I say this, that form appears and disappears whereas essence is neither born nor dies. Cancer you are! Except that you are so far removed from the frontline of murderers and thieves that provide for you and feed your existence and your way of thinking, to make a civilization with foundations in blood and genocide, to spread and devour this earth precisely in the manner cancer devours life. Cancer of the body weeps in the face of what you are and what you do. What you despise in dying children is your own blackened nature; it’s your projected guilt that swarms the collective unconscious of your species. But all this is for those who are incapable of wisdom.

And for those who have attempted to open their eyes and move their heads toward the blinding light, I have a different answer: what cancer? What child? What birth and what death? No one ever dies as no one has ever been born. Stillness is the nature of all things. But that’s for the seers to see. 

And lastly, of believers and non-believers; they are all the same to me, for man’s belief is nothing but a fantasy within fantasy. I can’t see or hear  anyone, for none exists but me; there is nothing for me to see or hear. But, as baffling as it is for you, I’ve heard that those who speak to me, speak themselves out of themselves and into me. As long as you are, I am not;  and when I am, you are not. And, I cannot not be.