You are the Light
Photo by Stephy Miehle on Unsplash.
I emerged from the dense forest onto an endless beach. I walked into the waves and just kept going. It felt effortless, as if I could swim forever, on top of the water or below it. The air, sun and water were perfect.
After a long swim, I stood alone on the beach, the vast Pacific before me, a tall stand of trees at my back. The sun warmed my shoulders. I curled my toes into the sand and extended my arms to my sides, my palms turned toward the sun. I slowed my breathing until it ebbed and flowed with the waves. Each breath drew in life. It spread to every cell as if there were no barriers—no vessels, no membranes, no impediments. Anatomically, it made no sense, but that’s how it felt. With every breath, I took in a sliver of nature and became one with it.
I felt a growing warmth in my hands. It traveled proximally through my wrists, arms and shoulders. Simultaneously, it traveled inwardly through the soles of my feet, drawing power and serenity from the earth and infusing it into my legs. My heart generated its own force and sent it outward until the flows of energy became one.
Tendrils of light danced above my upturned palms. They coalesced into small spheres. Guided by an ancient memory, I brought my arms together in front of me. When my hands touched, the lights merged into one. I drew it closer and gently pressed it against my chest. It moved inside and expanded until it filled my soul and spilled out onto the beach. More than light, it was knowledge, power, glory, life, the essence of all things and ineffable love. It was everything. I was no longer feeling it. I was it.
A thousand thunderous whispers echoed, “You are the light.”
A shudder swept through me. It seemed too big, too much. It seemed arrogant to accept the thought. From my Christian background, I remembered Christ saying, “I am the light.” That only accentuated my insecurities. Then I heard him telling a multitude on a mountain, “You are the light.” It wasn’t figurative or symbolic.
As a divine soul and master teacher, Christ told his accusers, “You are gods.” To a tentative Peter, he extended an invitation to walk on water. To those who’d witnessed his miracles, he said, “Greater things than these shall you do.”
I understood Christ didn’t come to speak of his greatness. He came to speak of ours.
I knew who I was. That day, in meditation, I understood, not from religion, science or tradition, but from the universe and within. I’d experienced my divine nature. I am, as every soul, light and love.
Say it with me: