The Weavers of Shared Dreams

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The first light of morning creeps through the slits in the curtains, painting pale, uncertain lines across the floor. I sit with my cup, which still warms my palms, watching the steam curl and vanish into the cool air of the room—just like the images from my dream that still weigh heavy on my eyelids, refusing to dissolve fully into wakefulness. There is something strange about this state between two worlds, a sense of the soul's permeability that is strongest in the early hours. I have always known that the night is not merely a time for rest, but a stage for deep, invisible work. But today I feel it with particular clarity: a dream is not just a personal archive; it is not merely a drawer for my own tidy or cluttered memories. It is a wide-open space in which I cease to be only "I" and become part of a vast, breathing network. As I watch the world outside slowly awaken, I realize how egocentric it is to believe that everything happening in our dreams refers solely to ou...

Self-love as love for God

In the first place is Love for God, this is what is meant by self-love. In the second place and on equal principles - love for God in the other and God in oneself, and in the third place - love, understanding and compassion for one's personality and the personality of the other, in the form of respect and understanding and tolerating the speed with which the Truth is seen - the speed with which the illusory layers of the personality are stripped away, the speed with which the ego is polished and vices and old karmic programs are cleared, the speed with which virtues are acquired.

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