Blankets of Me
Happy Dust and the Invisible Self
This morning my mind got playful.
I imagined that at the center of everything I call “me” lives the ultimate me.
Not my personality.
Not my history.
Not my body.
Not even my mind.
Just the quiet center.
And around that center… blankets.
Lots of blankets.
Breath.
Thoughts.
Mind.
Body.
Skin.
Clothing.
Words.
Memories.
Roles.
Influences.
Each one a covering.
Each one useful.
Each one temporary.
And sometimes those blankets fold over one another until they become caverns… little mazes of mind… places where I forget what is underneath.
Then another image came.
The invisible man.
You never really see the invisible man.
You only see what covers him.
Bandages.
Clothing.
Gauze.
Something visible wrapped around something invisible.
And suddenly I thought—
maybe the ultimate me is a little like that.
Always here…
never actually missing…
just usually seen through whatever happens to be covering it.
And then the playful part arrived:
HAPPY DUST.
What if happiness could be ground into a fine powder…
light enough to float in the air?
And what if I tossed that happy dust upward…
and walked my invisible self through it?
The dust would cling.
And suddenly what seemed invisible…
would become visible.
Not created.
Not improved.
Just revealed.
The breath feels like one of the thinnest blankets.
So when attention rests with the breath…
it’s as if many of the heavier blankets have already been set aside.
And between the breath…
and the ultimate me…
there is something almost invisible.
Almost.
So then the question came:
Where does the happy dust come from?
And the answer made me smile:
When happiness appears…
don’t spend it all.
Grind a little of it into powder.
Store it in a small packet.
A happiness packet.
Part wave…
part particle.
Part always here…
part ready for now.
And when the blankets feel heavy…
open the packet.
Throw a little happy dust into the air…
step through it…
and let the invisible me
show itself again.
Spiritual Gravity 