My World


I live in a world of Light and it is not imaginary.

All my life I have had to pretend to be like everyone else and for a long time thought that everyone else was actually doing the same.  Although I chose not to say it, in my mind I kept a small margin of hope in this regard.  It was just not possible to be so alone in this physical world.  This was perhaps my first query to an Absolute Infinite Beingness, and it may also be my last: why do we appear so different and yet feel so much as One?  Because of this, if I could have had one desire when I was growing up it was to be an ordinary human being.  I so much wanted to enjoy and forget and lose myself like everybody else!

I incarnated into a family complex that allowed me the deepest, most human experience of aloneness as an only child in constantly new schools, new places, new demands.  My parents were not the most stable specimens of parenthood and this was perfect to elicit another kind of awareness and stability within.  The Caribbean culture I was born into provided a continuously over-stimulating environment, which took its toll on my nerves and privacy, while also evoking a fire that is easily stirred by me.  It gave me spice that somehow balanced melancholy.

Being a woman in a generation that emerged to break norms (the 60’s) added the finishing touches on a personality that although timid by nature became extroverted and outspoken.  The causes we stood for became the ideal cover for retracing, relearning and restructuring the memories of life I brought with me.  It prepared me perfectly for my life today: understanding, adapting, and defending essential truth and dynamic principles that are not easily understood.

I always loved God.  Nobody taught me the kind of devotion I have for divine light, and this in an age where it has been fashionable to be the opposite.  But this sense of religiousness was always private, personal, even irreverent.  I loved and wanted to be Jewish.  I loved and wanted to be a Muslim.  But never atheistic: I remember heated conversations with my godless chess-champion cousin about that. God for me was everything and for me that meant that there was nothing to be ashamed of, ever.  Even if one made mistakes, love always poured in.

I knew I had a special connection with Jesus.  I could sense him, feel him near, know the way he smelled and moved.  He was a personal friend and deepest love, more than any god or lover that I ever had.  Everything fell short of that connection.  It was my solace, a highly secret affair.

Not many things made me lose myself or make me “ha-ha” happy, although God knows I tried everything!  In my extended loneliness I longed to reach and share, and always looked for those who also knew and had somehow forgotten that they knew.  I found them here and there, always under clouds of fantasy and belief I could not understand.  But I played along, and this is how I learned to relate, to appropriate a vocabulary and build a simulacrum that would allow me to come close.

I always knew that I Knew although I didn’t know what it was that I knew.  I armed myself with concepts and benefitted from an extraordinary education, but words always failed me.  I started hyphenating sensory adjectives and making verbs out of nouns and nouns out of verbs, aiming for the spaces in between the forms that only poetry or music can insinuate.

I learned to trust that feeling of knowing and found ways to decode it.  In the same way that today I know what I need to know when I need to know it.  It comes through a feeling-knowing that arises from an aspect of my own Self.   I cannot force or produce it.  This is how I found that most things are not important, and that when it counts there is always a revelation.

So I began my teaching journey, not because I wanted to teach but because I longed to share and play. I started what in truth is calling a person from within, seeking to remind the willing soul of the beauty that lies there.  My simple tools come from the fullness I have known in inner recesses where I now know it is impossible to bring a guest.  It is my world.  The key is love, a kind of intuitive trust of only one who somehow knows that he knows although he cannot know what he knows, has.  And then, I can only lead this loved one to the entrance of their own inner world.  At this point words are no longer necessary.

One thought on “My World

  1. Caroline Holtne

    Dear Zulma,
    wonderful and inspiring reading, ignites longing in my heart to reach the point were words no longer are necessery.
    Blessings to your work.

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