The eternal darkness of the womb is washed out by a blinding new sight: The light of a new world. The skin at the crown of the head tingles as it touches air for the first time. Birth.
The light of the world fades and the fear of the inevitability of darkness vanishes. It was never supposed to be dark after all. All is forgiven and a new cycle begins. Death.
We enter the world with a mammalian operating system. We all have needs of the body and some of us have a yearning for something more. Something invisible but palatable. An unseen fire warming our bones. The more we search outside for its light, the darker the night becomes.
Early in life we are placed in the washing machine of the system. We exit the womb like dirty laundry, then are tossed into the gentle, mechanized indifference of the system. What to think, say and do are made clear; To think, say and do what is appropriate and approved, one must be washed by the machine.
Without effort the laundry cycle lasts a lifetime. From the womb into preschool; From preschool to the university; From the university to the wedding, retirement party and funeral. All is planned and no thought is required. The default setting is programmed to give us all the base life.
But for those who listen and those who feel, the warmth of the invisible fire never fades. To give up the search is easy. To find the fire requires effort.
We are born with an intellect, a waterproof fire, that is unaffected by the washing. It lives at the depths of our human operating system as a passively powered source of infinite possibility.
It will not awaken on its own, and it is unaffected by the world around it. It waits for our focus sitting patiently as an orchestra waiting for its conductor.
And there are no substitutes for the conductor – it must be you. You, there, standing at the podium with your back turned to the orchestra wondering where it is.
A cloudy day is only cloudy to those who forget about the sun.
The washing machine will always be there waiting to move us through its homogenizing cycle. If you leave to seek the fire, to seek your orchestra, the machine will be there with open arms ready to rinse you clean.
And as the machine waits, so too will our intellect be waiting for us to believe in our own power to conduct our personal orchestra. The machine is automated, with no effort required to be educated. The intellect must be pulled from the stone without fear.
So it is a choice: To be washed, rinsed and repeated, or to embrace our unique truth and have zero fear of being defeated.
The orchestra is waiting, conductor. What song will you play?
Go where there is resistance and the reward will be your renaissance.