You’ve been born a hundred billion times already. Yet when you open your eyes today, baby, it’s as if for the very first time.
When you draw your hundred-and-something billionth first breath, the shock of the air hitting your lungs will prompt your scream of surprise, just like the very first time.
You’ll see everything brand new. Learn to give names, to use fingers, to run, to sing, to dance.
Somewhere along the line, you’ll be taught to overlook the seamless nature of experience, and thus begin to believe your name and those fingers are the truth of who you are.
Even then, you’ll carry the inkling of causeless joy, unconditional love, and freedom without boundaries. But, most likely, you’ll accept the words of those who tell you to look to the world for fulfilment.
Every so often you’ll catch a glimpse of light in someone’s eye, and you’ll know you’re home.
Because you’re a young man now, and your blood runs hot, you’ll probably fall in love with that light, and fall in lust with the body from which it shines.
Enjoy the body, if it is offered, but don’t believe, even for a moment, that the light was theirs, that the light is anything other than your Self, reflected back at you.
At times, you’ll feel immortal. At times you’ll feel you can’t go on. This is the truth and the lie of it. By grace, you’ll live this life knowingly as joy, as love, as freedom. Sing for joy, weep for love and dance for the freedom you are.
When you hear the call, turn to the light with that same grace. You’ve died a hundred billion times before, and this is nothing new. There is nothing new under the sun.
You’ve been born a hundred billion times before, baby, but when you open your eyes today, let it be for the very first time.