I was alone in the woods on a summer night, when suddenly, I woke up. Instantly, spectacularly, and completely out of the blue.
On the drive home the next morning, I was no longer the person my husband had married. I was no longer anyone.
My husband sat in silent astonishment as I tried to explain to him what had become of me while I was gone for the weekend. How do you tell your husband you’re enlightened? He could see it, though. He could see that I was entirely different, even though he couldn’t really understand what that meant.
When I started my relationship with him, I planted a seed. This seed contained the blueprint for my end of our relationship, what I would grow into within the garden of this relationship. We do this with all our relationships, even though we are completely unaware of it.
The seed has all kinds of information encoded within it. An acorn does not grow a thistle weed. This information is taken from the past, and not just from the past of this incarnation. You can’t know what the plant will be until it starts to grow. Is it a strangling vine? Is it a giant redwood tree? Time will tell.
Then what? The tree changes, depending on conditions. Is there enough light, water, nourishment? It changes depending on events as well: fire, flood, disease. The potential is determined by the seed, but the outcome is altered by life.
The plant is not the relationship. It is who you become in the relationship.
When I woke up, all my seeds disappeared, as though they were recalled back to their source. All the plants that had sprung from them disappeared as well. My husband had a relationship with a giant sequoia, but suddenly the tree was gone. And there was only myself, standing in its place.
Some of you will find this rather cryptic, but many of you will start to grasp this right away, and this understanding will continue to deepen and unfold over time.
How difficult it was for him, my husband. He was married to the giant sequoia tree, and suddenly he was married to just me. Every understanding, every carefully negotiated treaty, every ambivalence, every condition, every power struggle, every unfulfilled longing, every disappointment, every hope that he would change, every expectation, every notion of entitlement, any and all friction between my persona and his…all vanished in one moment.
And this happened in all my relationships. The tree, the flower, the poisonous bush, the fruit bearing vine…all were gone.
I have no more seeds. My relationships are all seedless. It can be a bit perplexing for people, we are not accustomed to relating to others without this botanical representation of their karma, their persona. Or our own, for the matter.