The mind is the most underused tool, the thing lost in the bottom of a cluttered drawer. We might hold hammers and pencils and drive small cars on smooth streets, but the organ guiding the movements, instructing the nervous system, sending the signals, is just another bit of trash on an already crumpled body. Locked in a skull is the open receptacle, filled since birth with words, concepts, mores, judgement, experience, desire and complete identification. Thoughts are not our own. They come from carefully constructed wants that have been created in skyscrapers, pushed by clever campaigns. We carry the thoughts of parents, grandparents, teachers, priests, friends, TV characters, imaginary situations and claim them as our own. The mind believes that it is real… the mind believes this body is its own…complete and right and unique. This mind has twisted and crumbled into itself, believing that it acts on its own thoughts and impulses, but the mind is a slave. A slave to thoughtfully programmed desires, a servant to the machine self, a slave to the belief of “me” and “them.” The coils are passed from one generation to another. Chains pass through rivers, through centuries and cultures. We are slaves with the illusion of power. Empty vessels with the illusion of individuality and choice. These thoughts transcend all matter, they seep into everything until at last, it is time. For very few, it might be time, for the masters control the locks and keys. They have manipulated the politics of society and corrupted the laws and legislated against colored vision. But if it is time, you may shed the brain you know. The bars of skin and heavy gifts of the ancestors may drop just for a little while. The fear of the Other may evaporate like warm rain and you may feel a tug that pulls you closer to the earth. An indescribable sensation may hold you deeper and firmer than you have ever experienced. The candle may flicker long enough for the purest light to burn itself in the dark center of your chest. Step out of reality, step beyond the thick black lines and into the realm of the Real.
It is time.
It is time to understand that there is much more than you have ever seen, much more than you have ever understood, much more than you have ever been taught.
It is time.
The mirror stands waiting.