Vachon Imagined

A rock is life itself.

It has no meaning.

Neither does life.

It moves. It is. It expands and contracts. It exists before we name it, before we assign it value, before we decide what it means.

Within all people, there is a place where what appears opposite comes under dominion—a place where division begins to dissolve. But you must find it yourself. I can point toward it, but you must use your own life to return to consciousness itself.

Your life, no matter how you describe it, is life.

It is the same life I feed on, walk in, use, and exist within. We exist through it just as much as we participate in it. The two are not separate forms. They are one movement appearing as many.

When you step outside of judgment, you begin to see this clearly, just as you can see your imagination unfolding before you. It is all imagination. Life. Clarity. Existence.

It does not have favorites.

It does not cast out.

It is presence.

Presence with the self.
Presence with others.

We reveal one another.

Even your enemy reveals you.

When we throw rocks of judgment, harm, blame, and shame, we are throwing life expressed through those forms. The question is not only what you are throwing, but whether you are willing to feel what leaves your own hand.

How do you know what you are throwing?

Pay attention.

You will feel it.

You can even return in your mind to a moment from the past. Hold the image of what happened. Feel what arises.

Ah.

There it is.

A name.

A memory.

An experience appearing in time.

But it is not above all names. It is a name appearing within time, arriving and departing.

Yet when patterns become fixed, people begin to say things like:

This is just who I am.

And in one sense, they are right.

This is who they are now.

But now is not forever.

In the presence of God, rocks cannot remain rocks. Life takes shape. What we project does not simply disappear into the world; it returns to us as an invitation toward awakening, toward awareness, toward seeing.

This does not excuse harm.

It does not remove responsibility.

But it gives harm a place to breathe.

It allows even suffering to become part of the movement toward recognition.

Because everything we encounter is life revealing itself, asking us to remember what we are.