Alone

Very early on, I realized I was alone. I was three. My mother was hanging the washing on the line on a brilliant blue day. There was a transistor radio on the ground near to the bucket of half-wrung clothes and it was blaring something as bright as the day. I was bursting happy and it had to do with the sky, the music, the dancing clothesline and this lady - all of which I recognized as mine and existing just for me, but clearly apart from me.

There is a theory floating around out there that we are all one. Sounds like a plan, but I'm not on board. And not for a lack of trying - six years as a student of 'A Course in Miracles'. Another six years as a student and sometimes teacher of yoga. I hear ye and I hear ye - but I have not seen the light. Not yet.
I came close. Once, in the middle of the Arizona desert I saw something, felt something, but it slipped away. A snapshot of a moment that I dared not try to chase.