We are warned by psychologists and counselors to heal our apparent wounds; to recognize the importance of dealing with our emotional issues. To carry them into the so-called future is paramount to inviting a tiger to claw at us whenever it pleases. Such is not a way to live, or thrive, because there remains the threat that the wound will rip open again and bleed when we least expect it. An issue that I once had was related to the blinking of a porch light.
I am fortunate to have been raised in a loving family. My family was comprised of two loving parents and two wonderful older sisters. We lived in a rural setting (not remote by any definition); but neighbours lived far enough apart, that it was a very special occasion when they came to visit. Through my perspective, such visits were all the more terrific if the visiting family had children who were close to my age.
I remember well those summer and fall evenings; of playing tag or hide and seek with my friends. Full of youthful innocence, we made the front and back yards come alive with great adventures. At some point, a chase—full of nibble legs and panting lungs—was almost certain to occur. The spirit of those fun times sang through my veins like a high note held by an opera singer—that is, until there came the twice or thrice blink of the porch light. We children knew that such was a signal from our parents to wind down the play. It was time for the visit to end. I do not recall there being immense suffering at the time; but I definitely remember a shiver of longing. At the heart of the issue was more time; yes, more time—“just five more minutes, please!” To this day, I’m not sure if I really did cry out for more; but it certainly feels that way in memory.
The wound to which I alluded is not unique to me. Who of the human race will not feel at least a hint of suffering when the good times come to an end—when the porch light blinks? Who, having married, wants to imagine the day when a partner exits? Who, having found a new friend, desires to waste the present moment by worrying about when the friendship will be lost. I’ve found that my wound is most vulnerable when I forget, yet again, that the porch light even exists. What begins…must end. This symbolizes, at least to me, that I may have taken a friendship or situation for granted to some degree.
The description of this particular wound will probably resonate with most people. If it does, I’d like to assure you that there is a solution. The solution is found in knowing more about our essential nature; of “What”—not who—we truly are. If we continue to assume that we are the person, it is highly likely that we will, therefore, miss other people when they depart. The emotional pain associated with this perspective can be debilitating; it can lead those who remain to wish—even pray—that it was they who died. Such is the nature of the human heart, and the pain associated with “time over.”
For those who are earnestly eager to transcend the suffering related to the human condition, self-inquiry offers a starting point. The following question is usually asked: “Who am I?” The answer, of course, cannot be found in the usual descriptors. We’re not actually seeking words that reflect gender, nationality, race, or career. To get to the heart of the issue, where we realize relief from apparent suffering, we must transcend the belief that we are the human. At the core of all suffering is an erroneous assumption. Such is just part and parcel of the human journey.
Recognition of the Truth of our Being can be reached when we commit to daily meditation. There, in the stillness, we can realize that the true Self—Awareness—is actually witnessing the sensations, images, feelings, and thoughts of the person whom the majority of Beings have long-assumed themselves to be. When such occurs, a logical question will arise: “What is the nature of the ‘I’ that is witnessing these?” We are “That,” not the objective body-mind that is apparently suffering. This realization frees us from the suffering related to porch-light circumstances. The error, we realize, was a case of mistaken identity; we had fallen into ignorance of our true nature. To awaken from the dream of personhood is termed enlightenment.
One, Universal Consciousness, cannot really become a multitude of apparent people; it can only dream it so. Likewise, the ever-present Here and Now cannot actually become lasting space and time. Everything is rendered by the mind. How readily humans accept that the mind creates the ephemeral worlds (so real while experiencing them) in the dream state; yet stubbornly cling to the erroneous assumption that the characters and world experienced in the waking state must have real independence of their own. The reason is simple to understand: Out of fear, the false “i” clings to the belief in its own existence. It must, however, be crucified if we desire eternal life as That which we truly are. So-called “personal” consciousness is only a reflection of One Consciousness, often referred to as God. We need not worry about the blink of a porch light; we are in good hands.
Dare to Dream (and care for one another).
With heartfelt regards,
Copyright © – 2022 – R. Arthur Russell
P.S. Please share this article if you enjoyed it. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones–released September 8, 2020), press here. My YouTube videos may be found through this link. May the content of either or both help you along your spiritual journey. 🙏🧡
2 thoughts on “The Blink of A Porch Light”
Brilliant, wise and beautiful post Arthur 🙏💙
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Thank you so much, Ananda! I hope you know how much I love to read your writing–you have such a gift.
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