The three ultimates
Observers were confused. Who was who? Was the teacher the guy with the beard or the little guy? Which one was Kram. Finally someone spoke up.
“Are you or are you Retlaw Kram?”
“Of course you are,” came the reply.
The ultimate perfection
It lies beyond a veil, but the veil can be penetrated. The veil does not require perfection to pass. At least, not in the way we typically define perfection.
It requires an open mind and an open heart, a tender heart, the place within our heart that still knows and believes in and acknowledges our own innocence.
It is a perfection that puts a greater value on our beauty and our innocence than on our mistakes and sins. It is a perfection that puts a greater value on the wonder, and the increasing wonder, of the journey — versus stopping along the way and putting value on the drama.
Because anytime that we stop and look, or stop and soak, or reflect and ooze within the experience, our journey stops. At that spot. Or immediately goes back through the veil.
The ultimate subjectivity
It is a journey into the unknown, where few things can be described. It is a journey into the ultimate subjectivity of things, where only a counterbalancing of objectivity allows us to continue, allows us to hover in place. Because if we become overwhelmingly subjected to the experience, it stops or retreats back through the curtain.
“It is a vast room of paradox. It is the paradox of a vast dark, black sea, that is full of light. It is the dark light of potential.”
And the ultimate surrender
It requires a form of complete surrender, but not so complete that we lose our place and stumble back to this side of the wall. It demands that we learn to ride the center. Because we cannot journey deeper and deeper toward the center unless we are about accepting the center, the center of the particular moment. This is what is meant by momentous. It is also about the acceptance of relativity.
It is skateboarding the unknown with a certain finesse, and an open heart and open mind. It is surfing the still but explosive waves of the centerline. It is traversing the warm crevasses of all potential, riding a hoverboard of exquisite balance. It is the moment when the engine is suddenly in perfect time. In a sense, it is perfect pitch.
Like life, the lesson was over before it had truly started.
