The morning sun was dancing off the fresh, green foliage giving it a glow. She leans over the balcony eagerly watching the play of sunlight and shadow. That’s life, often a carnival filled with unique colors and just like the clouds in the autumn sky, these different colors shine and sparkle for a while and then fade away.
Looking back she realizes a lot of things. She does not have an answer to most of her questions. But she knows there is nothing called waking and dreaming, real and unreal. What was real yesterday is unreal today, and what is real now will be unreal tomorrow, because tomorrow it will no longer exist.
As she watches the colors that arise and disperse, and looks at the patterns of sun and shadow which form and dissolve she notices how life unfolds from a formless source. It arises from the ocean of bliss, from the joyous swaying of love, and merges back into the space of consciousness.
Will she ever be able to see things as a vast picture composed of countless vessels filled with strange and colorful things, each more fascinating and astounding than the last? What is all this? It is nothing but the dance of your own Self, the supreme actor, says her inner voice.