Children Of The Light
March 2011
The Writer’s usual Train commute turns special when she sees that her fellow commuters, complete strangers otherwise, are all made of the same spiritual stuff as her.
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As I walked the streets of London on a fresh and beautiful morning, I was wonderstruck by the winter pageant. Snow-capped trees stood on Christmas-lit streets. Everything looked magical, even though the morning chaos at my suburban station continued unabated. I could have been in Connaught Place or Mumbai’s CST. Everyone was busy, lost in their own lives. I rushed past strangers and made my way to the train to Marylebone. I embarked, found myself a seat, and began my usual 45-minutes commute. But something felt different that day. I scoured through my bag to see if I had forgotten something at home. I looked at the glass window to ensure my mascara was not smudging. Everything was fine, yet something felt different. The train moved swiftly past the stations and as people boarded in and left, I could see no difference in race, colour, and culture. The only thing that stood out was the common human struggle to survive.
Differences disappear
In those moments issues like racism, recession, economic instability, or economic disparities ceased to matter. No thought, idea, or emotion was strong enough to overshadow what was bared before my eyes – the unity of spirit. We are all the same from within. Each of us goes through similar trajectories. We have similar joys and sorrows. The same things make us happy and similar challenges test our faith. We go through childhood, growing, watching and learning. We go through the temptations of adolescence and the dilemma of youth. Love gives us happiness and hate gives us pain.
That is the universal truth.
Looking around me, for a moment all I could see was the Light of Soul in each of my fellow commuters. Their faces disappeared, their bodies had no existence, and all I could see in them was light. Some brighter than others and some faded, trying to resuscitate their glow. The intensity of their light corresponded with their appearances. Smiling faces that reflected a
| We all come from One Light, God is one. All the strangers had turned into my familiars | ||
love for life glowed from within, while those who had been wounded by life shone rather dimly. Even children have a light which varies according to the morals planted in their innocent hearts. The light shone in each person, irrespective of their age and culture. The elderly shone from within too, though in some the light appeared rather harsh reflecting past challenges and current dissatisfaction. Some youngsters had a light that was full of calm, love and warmth. My familiar daily commute became like an exciting reality show. I had no idea who these people were. However, the real triumph that I experienced in the moment was my experience of the harmonious truth – we are not different.
Eureka! Eureka!
I wanted to shout out and cry hysterically and tell them to stop looking at each other as separate. We are all One! It was the moment of my life. A moment in which I had felt closer to perfect strangers than I had even felt to blood relatives.
When my destination was just five minutes away, I focussed my energies on one of the lights that emanated from an individual four rows ahead. It was a bright yellow glow with beautiful orange and red sparks as I had visualised in my meditations. I closed my eyes and visualised that sparkly glow. I visualised my energy rising out of my soul and meeting the energy of that glow. I wanted to thank that glow for telling me that what I strove to achieve actually did exist.
Just then the train stopped and as though back from a distant dream, I opened my eyes with a jerk. Walking towards the exit, I looked around to find the lights I had connected with on the way. It was amazing. I could only see a glow of light instead of actual people. I started to move out of the station when I felt a strange current on my back. Turning around, I saw the light that I had connected to, standing in front of me with a smile. It belonged to a lady in her 40s who looked troubled as she tried hard to explain in her language that she has lost her phone and gestured if she could use mine to make an urgent call. A connection that had taken birth on spiritual level had created a sense of comfort at the physical level.