The drama was over. The whole thing called “my life” had been just that: a drama, a story. A dream. I had woken from it. It had ended.
Yakusan, in the ninth century, likened awakening to a snake shedding it’s skin and the true body being revealed. The whole “skin” of our imagined life sloughed off. I was born in the real world now, not the world as I had thought, but as it was–beyond description, marvelous and ordinary at the same time, limitless yet just exactly as it seemed.
“What needed to be done has been done,” as the Buddha said.