Copyright 2010 Roberta Osborn. All rights reserved.

Dreams of the Borderland

Freedom

I watch a small lizard on a wood pile. It is still for long moments, then it darts a foot or so across a

log. It is a brilliant green color. I have no idea if it is male or female. I turn and look around me.

There is a zoo on the lawn. There are rabbits and robins in the grass, each pursuing its own

objective. A squirrel clings like a small steel trap to the tree, jerking its tail. There is a box turtle on

the hill, heading out for distant horizons. The temperature is balmy. The air stirs in fresh breezes.

The grass and trees are the lush full green of mid-summer, and the sky is completely clear,

breathtakingly blue, the

blue that reminds the

heart of joy. I am

perfectly at peace and

comfortable here. I am

content with this day. I

have the freedom to

remember it and return to

it later. My friend

approaches across the

lawn. Already I am

smiling. I sense the

doubling of potentials my

friend presents. How do

you double infinity?

Nevertheless, there is

more of us together than

the sum of us. We stroll

in the gentle afternoon

sun.

I show off to entertain my friend and become a breeze myself. I rush through the tree tops with

ecstatic abandon, feeling the play of the leaves against my shoulders and arms of air. There is no

apparent end to this forest, and I permeate the branches, rolling and spinning, dragging leaves

this direction and that in my wake, embracing more and more of the forest until at last I am too

large and I pop above it into the sky. I continue to move to the horizons until I embrace the entire

world in my irresistible caress of motion. I realize that there is nothing stopping me at this point

either.

I grow larger still until I am at play with the boundaries of the atmosphere, with space warm and

alive in glowing bands of stars and star-matter. I can occupy any structure I like, or all of them. I

roll into a nebula and take up a funny dancing position, like a kid playing Statues. My friend joins

me and is swimming in the rings of Saturn. We are silly and laughing. By occupying this structure,

I begin to understand something of the nature of manifestation, and I plan to remember it. I recall

the tiny lizard and zoom back to the woodpile. It is still there. It has an elegant little reptile face

with black-bead eyes rimmed precisely in pale brown. Tiny toes grip the log. I marvel at its

delicacy. It is as infinite in its precious details as the universe is large.

The lizard says nothing. I turn to the squirrel, who is busily tamping the earth, its tail twitching with

contented industry. I turn to the rabbits, who nibble tenderly and stretch a leg now and then. I turn

to the robins, who appear to be looking at the earth, but are really listening. The box turtle is

determined to go, go, go steadily and is unaffected by my interest. Yet, something about them

answers my awareness, all of them in unison, without words. I hear another bird singing. It is

aware of me, too. "I hear you, Mr. Bird," I say. A butterfly rises from the grass and flies in a circle

around me, coming closer, alighting on a dandelion, then dancing away. It is not bound by any

concerns, and it invites my heart to dance freely with it as it bypasses all obstacles. I realize that I

am limitless, yet the details I have created and enjoyed are precious beyond measure. I will not

forget, so I will never lose them.

It occurs to me that consciousness, like light, is both a particle and a wave. As a particle, I have

the nature of defining my own activity. As a wave, I am one with all that is. I realize that I am free

to be and find within myself every single thing that I admire in nature or in other people. I will bring

about my own unobstructed, shining radiance, set it face-to-face with reality, and smile.