I Slowly Remember...

I slowly remember.

I begin to see the journey through the forest and my goals to reach the mountain peaks.

How long did I sleep this time around?

I’m of that special breed of human
that is attracted to the
Real
Work.

I remember the time I cried on the balcony of my father’s room, when I was five or six, back in El Salvador, looking at the volcano, crying because my sister had lied to my parents, denying the truth when I begged her not to.
I, hurt and confused, did not understand the truth myself, the truth about the human condition.

I remember my brother next to me, telling me about "something’s coming".

Something was happening and most humans, men, women, children, none knew about it.

They can’t see it.

And I, at the same moment, saw waves of energy huge and majestic appear out of the horizon (as if the Earth was suddenly under water and the light from the sun was bending) covering sky and volcano and everything; and I knew it was as my brother said, no one could see them.

How many lifetimes have I wasted in the sleep of humans?

I remember the child who tortured his best friend, the gangster that shot an innocent man, the college boy who molested a little girl, the father who abandoned his child, the husband who raped his wife, the fiend who stole from his best friend, the trusted one who slept with his brother’s wife, the apprentice, sun of the sun, who betrayed his own essence.

Yet again, as before, I remember the innocent child, the apprentice, the man, the father, the friend, the brother. And I slowly, again, begin to awaken from my sleep; and I begin as a human to recover from being a hungry ghost.

And I’m remembering the little, simple things.

The treadmill, where humans go round and round as slaves; the forest, where only the few ever glimpse and less even venture into; the place where I lost my self; the work on self; the group I venture with; where I am; ...

and, yes, the magic too.

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