Vachon Imagined

“So you don’t believe in Jesus Christ?” she said.

The statement arrived disguised as a question.

I answered with a question of my own.

Do you believe in your body?

Do you believe in your own mind?

Do you believe that when you touch something, you are feeling it?

That when you experience something, you are knowing it as yourself?

Perfect.

Then let us set aside the term Jesus Christ for a moment.

Let us forget the words.

Forget the doctrines.

Forget the arguments.

Forget the centuries of people claiming ownership over what cannot be owned.

Look instead at the body.

Look at experience itself.

Because Jesus Christ is not the ego.

Not the personality.

Not the collection of thoughts that call themselves “me.”

Rather, it is the shape of life itself—the living presence that appears as every body, moves through every form, and yet belongs to none of them.

But people do not see this.

Not because it is hidden.

Because they are busy looking elsewhere.

They look at another and judge.

They compare.

They separate.

They create pride where love already exists.

They create distance where life has made none.

And then they wonder why they cannot find what they seek.

So you don’t believe in Jesus Christ?

Wonderful.

Then believe in yourself.

Not the self you have imagined.

Not the self you defend.

Not the self built from memory and opinion.

Look deeper.

Watch yourself.

Observe your thoughts the way you would watch images moving across a movie screen.

See them.

But do not mistake them for what you are.

Thoughts appear.

Feelings appear.

Identities appear.

Stories appear.

And disappear.

The screen remains.

Return to that.

Return to your dwelling.

Some say this dwelling lies at the root of the spine.

Others place it in the heart.

Others call it intuition.

But even intuition requires someone to interpret it.

So do not cling even to that.

Just watch.

Watch without reaching.

Watch without naming.

Watch without trying to become anything.

And in that watching, something begins to reveal itself.

Not a person.

Not an identity.

Not even a belief.

A living presence.

A spirit without a dwelling.

A life without an owner.

A knowing that exists before thought divides the world into self and other.

Perhaps this is what was always being pointed toward.

Not a man to worship from afar.

But a reality to discover directly.

The development and release of the body.

The surrender of the separate self.

The recognition of life knowing itself through every form.

The spirit of Jesus Christ without a dwelling.

Without a person.

Without a boundary.

Simply life, awake to itself.