Learning to unlearn

Thinking a bit more about my post the other day, about the brevity of human life in the context of an infinite existence, I found myself wondering how come we don’t have memories of the other parts of our beingness? Those previous lives, or parallel experiences, that we might perhaps expect to subtly inform the way we work on this iteration on the human plane.

Then I realised that maybe memories are something our infinite being selves simply don’t need. Why would we need to have a store of experiences if we can simply do them again, at will? Why would we need recall of our mistakes, or of our successes for that matter, if we already had a knowing of the best things to do to achieve our aims?

When you know everything, and can do anything, you don’t need to rely on memory. It’s just there.

That got me thinking, that sounds like a pretty cool way of being – I wonder what I need to learn to be that way.

D’oh! Learning is based around memory.

Being is just … well, being.

So I don’t need to learn and remember what to do to become the infinite being I truly be. I need to UNlearn and forget everything this reality has told me about being limited. And go back to that child-like wonder before the world told me there was stuff I couldn’t do.

Simple, eh?

Not easy though!

Maybe time really is flying?

Do you remember when you were a child and sometimes a day felt like a week and a week felt like a year, because the possibilities felt so endless, and the adventures you could have were so vast and varied?

During my morning meditation the other day it occurred to me that what if, as infinite beings having a human experience, what we see as a lifetime is really, in the context of the existence of an infinite being, just a day or so of grand and glorious adventures?

What if for our real selves, the things we allow to upset and frustrate our human selves are like those little tears and tantrums we experienced as human toddlers? And instantly forgot when the cookie jar opened, or we found something else to explore.

What if, to our infinite selves, the world is one big cookie jar, open and ready to sustain us as we venture out into this brief reality with gleeful curiosity?

How much joy could we spread then?