Vachon Imagined

When you speak about something, you open it to judgment and interpretation.

This is why many who know God, who know that presence when the mind becomes still, choose not to speak about it. Not because it is absent, but because they understand the limitations of language.

The moment someone says a word like peace, love, or abundance, the mind reaches out and takes hold of it. It compares it to what it already knows. It divides it, defines it, argues with it.

A word that was meant to point becomes something people fight over.

The experience becomes secondary to the interpretation.

Personal experience begins to take over. And while each person’s experience is meaningful and unique, it is not universal.

What is universal is the human condition.

Two things seemingly existing at once.

Me and God.

You and me.

Your story unfolding alongside mine.

Your experience existing alongside my own.

Even our bodies reflect this mystery. You stand next to me. I stand next to you. There appears to be separation, two distinct beings moving through the world.

Yet there are places where the physical body cannot go.

I can sit here and think of you when you are miles away.

I can feel connected to someone I cannot touch.

I can remember someone who is no longer physically present and experience their presence within me.

The mind crosses distances that the body cannot.

That is how powerful consciousness is.

It can create separation, but it can also reveal connection.

It can create stories that divide us, but it can also allow us to see beyond our own story and into another person’s humanity.

This is the gift of being an individual.

Not to erase our uniqueness, but to bring our uniqueness into awareness.

Your experiences are yours.

Your memories are yours.

Your story is yours.

But when you learn to see them clearly—not as the entirety of what you are, but as expressions of life moving through you—you begin to see something beyond yourself.

You begin to see life itself.

Life is everywhere.

You are walking in it.

You are standing in it.

You are participating in it.

You are repeating it.

What a gift it is to experience this through a body—to feel, to love, to remember, to create, and to encounter the world.

And what a gift it is to recognize that you are more than the body alone.

The mind can be used to imprison us in fear, separation, and suffering.

Or it can be used as an instrument of awareness, compassion, and creation.

The same mind that can create suffering can also become a doorway to something greater.

What a gift it is to have the choice.