there was a great poet, her name was emily dickinson. i feel like she was, must have been a sister, a soul mate of mine. she once had a poem, she said, holding up a handful of dust, she would reach down and say, this quiet dust was gentlemen and ladies, and lads and girls, was laughter and ability, and sighing and frocks and curls. this passive place, a summer's nimble mansion where bloom and bees fulfilled their oriental circuit, then ceased like these. that's who all of us are if we identify ourselves with our body. the fact is that everything in this physical universe doesn't meet the definition of what is real. who you are is that soul that i spoke about a few moments ago, that soul that says, i want to expand, i want to be free, i want to go to a place where i understand that who i am is birthless, deathless, changeless, and live from that place, because what this involves fundamentally is reprogramming yourself from the belief system that has been your ego, the part of us that has come to believe that who we are is what we have, an