In this dream, he would roam the corridors of his mansion, proud of all that he had built. His fortress of security and strength protected him from the dangers of the outside world. In the dream, time started to move faster. Years passed in seconds and eventually the bird dreamed that as a person, he died. He dreamed that the palace, left unattended for months then years, then decades, eventually crumbled… ground back into the earth by the relentless cycles of wind and rain.

Free of the palace walls, the awareness of the dreamer looked out into the world. He imagined that the mansion had been but a tiny cage. The harmony of the stars, the sun, the moon and the planets were all acting in concert to make the world a garden. He saw the true palace was really the universe in which the temporary little mansion had been built.

When the little bird woke up, the dream of being a person soon started to fade. He sang a bright cheerful song, simply glad to be a bird again.

He spread his wings and jumped out into the sky. He flew out into a world of impossible beauty. A world that was bursting with variety and self expression. Despite the danger of serpents… the garden was full of gifts.

After singing many bright songs and flying to many extraordinary places, the little bird died.

Just then… the garden woke up from its dream of being a little bird.

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Along this surface of infinite eyes, I came across my own looking right back at me. I hovered closer and closer until finally, I fell into them. I swam through the depths of my self until I came out on the other side. From here, the sphere was no more than a singularity… the tiniest of points hovering in an ocean of the brightest light. I opened my entire being into the blank canvas upon which creation is painted. I examined the tiny sphere and looked into the world through millions of little windows, seeing creation through a million unique pairs of eyes, each with a different view, each with a different dream of self. As I awoke, I passed back through the window of my eyes and heard a voice whisper, “let there be light”.

Awake in the world… I greet the people I encounter and see them looking back at me. I say hello to my dog. I watch a dragonfly navigate the air. I see a goldfish in a tank. In every pair of eyes, all I can see is a glittering wall of gem stones, a deep shiny collection of windows looking in upon the world, from the very edges of creation. I look in upon the world myself and contemplate the light that I can barely remember, even as it dwells deep in my being… surrounding all that is… shared by us all… we behold the world, so that the light can see… I wait patiently to let go and one day return to the source.

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There have been times when I did not have much faith in my own potential. A few very special people in my life helped me believe. Belief makes all the difference.

So whatever you want to do, and whoever you think you can become… go for it! Find the way and then show it to someone else.

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Reflecting on some of the times when being together mattered the most…

Through these last few months as Arlene’s cancer has taken everything from her one step at a time. Durning long nights on baby monitor duty to keep her safe, when she would get up 5 or 6 times a night to make a grueling 10 minute journey 15 feet to the bathroom. Shadowing every painful step she made with the walker because she had become a terrible fall risk. Never to make it in time, but to take the journey anyway. Being with her in the face of miserable agony, and her experience of loosing independence and dignity. Helping her change her soaked diaper while she cried on the toilet and told me I would be a good father because I was patient and calm.

When she was finally bed ridden, all the nights I stayed up with her so Mark could finally get some rest… Holding her so the aids could change her and make sure she was clean and dry. She was miserable, indignant and sometimes delirious… sometimes I could be with it. Sometimes I could hold her and her suffering as perfect. Sometimes loving her, god and the universe exactly as we were unfolding in those precious moments… and then we would laugh. We would laugh while we changed her diaper.

There are a hundred other stories of Arlene Bollt from these last many months, and a thousand from all the years before of how she has suffered. As I got closer to her I became present to a degree of emotional distress I did not know was possible. While being with my mother in her agony for months… really being with her… time and again laughter and tenderness would break through. The three of us laughed a lot through all this pain and cancer and diapers and drugs. We laughed, and it was like light through a window in a dark room… enough light to keep one precious flower in bloom.

Sitting next to Arlene in hospice right now. Just a few days ago the whole world changed. She’s not waking up or eating anymore. I didn’t see it coming. I wanted this, for her to stop suffering. Mark and I helped make it happen… I still did not see it coming. Suddenly in a flash (of horrible emptiness) I see how I could have loved Arlene better and more fully. I see how simple that would have been. I see how I could have reached out more and shared the light of my world. I thought I was open and loving. Only now that it’s breaking, do I see how much more heart I have to give. Death is permission to open completely and to love fully.

These last few months I have been closer to my Arlene and Mark than since we were kids. These months of suffering have been a gift. I would give anything to be chasing her around on her walker and changing her diapers again.

Recently Arlene taught me some of the most valuable lessons I have ever learned. I’m realizing that even our suffering is a gift… when we experience it together. Our suffering is wrapped around this miraculous gift of being.

I’m deeply grateful to all of you who have loved Arlene, who have known her, who have laughed with her, and cried with her. Thank you for being part of her life journey.

Love always, David

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Tonight with tears in my eyes I kissed the forehead of the woman who brought me into this world, and whispered a thank you in her ear. She had a rough day. She was sleeping. I watched her sleep. Her brow was troubled and only sometimes would it soften and relax.

Arlene Bollt, my mother, has been living with cancer for a long time. Her steady decline over these last few years has recently become much more steep. She is starting to let go… of everything. I see the sands flowing through the hourglass. I have no way of knowing how many precious grains remain.

Sometimes it has me feel as awake as I have ever been, naked in this moment with nothing to hide, nothing to loose and nothing to gain. I’m free to play in the garden until I too am crushed back into the soil. It feels like I’m being ripped to pieces sometimes… and then I think that’s just my armor being taken from me. I will surrender it all in the end anyway. Might as well let it go.

This burning fire that is life itself draws matter into it’s beautiful machinery and blossoms as consciousness. I see the clouds form even as they evaporate. I see the flowers rise in the field as others fall back into the soil. Upon the blank canvas of my awareness the universe paints itself as a beautiful garden.

I own nothing… no more than I own the sky.
I own everything… every bit as much as I own the sky.

I’m spending the day in silence and solitude. To my family, my friends, my fans… and to every random stranger who has ever crossed my path… thank you. I would not trade this perspective of mine for anything. Thank you for the birthday wishes. I’m honored and deeply moved by so many wonderful people. I am blessed beyond my wildest dreams.

Arlene Bollt… thank you for everything.
I am deeply grateful.

I love you all…!

David

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