Thanks to all that we’re taught in our childhood about what our human experience should look like, we’ve made being human the most difficult part about life. We’re taught to defend with fervent devotion every construct there is about the human experience. We do our best every waking moment to make believable all that we’ve made up to be true about ourselves and about life.
When I was an infant, people rubbed their fingers across my tiny nose and simply enjoyed me as a baby. I had compassion for these people who were so immersed in doing “the dance,” in defending the construct, the illusion. As a baby I could not speak because there was no need for words, and language was just a defense-mechanism, and as a child, I had nothing to defend, only experience to absorb.
Without our veils, our walls, our defensive judging, we know all of the answers to our questions, we understand all of the “unknowns.” In the precious moment that perhaps we get to experience our veils being lifted, we may realize that everything that we see and hear and understand with our “new eyes” are things that we’ve already seen before, things that we’ve already recognized and understood but have simply looked over or have subconsciously chosen to ignore thanks to that ugly gatekeeper, judgement, whom we became so very well acquainted with in the moment we began learning to talk, learning to submit to the illusion of separateness.