What did I once dream of? What do I truly dream of now? Can we measure dreams?
Can we measure life? How do we truly measure a life?
Is it by the size of a heart? The openness of a heart? How could we measure that?
What if that huge expansive opening was just the beginning? Really the size of a pinhole in the universe. How do we know until it opens further and gives a glimpse that there is more? How could we possibly contain that in a simple dream?
Clear water reflecting back our true image. Is that a dream? An opening to the only real possibility in life? How could we possibly plan that? How could we possibly dream of something we can’t yet see?
Maybe better to dream of always finding that clear water inside that brings us glimpses of truth and creates images of beauty beyond what the logical mind has experienced. Maybe better to feel that opening and expansiveness of heart in all its realms: felt, experienced. Physical, energetic and something more.
Measured only by the sensation of being present.
Measured only by knowing that something is different than it was before.
Describable and simultaneously indescribable. Words of size not really mattering.
Just the essence of open.
Feeling the shift from before and smiling that life ever held such possibility.
You couldn’t really have dreamed it fully or drawn it as a child.
But somehow it arrived without a written plan.
Just spontaneously emerging along the path that can really only be seen by looking back.