The content of consciousness is our psychological prison.
We wake up every new day with the contents of a thousand yesterdays.
How can we ever meet a moment anew?
The mind touches every moment, with image, concept or judgement.
For one instant, is it possible to die to the content of the story, and
To discover the eternal newness of Life ?
For the mind to see this truly, it has to be completely silent and fall into this Reality.
Only in a constant dying of the mind to the endless stream of consciousness, can this Love be expressed.