A sparrow comes to sit on my shoulder. I am the branch it clings to. My deepest heart is what it wants to be near. But, alas, my heart hangs from a thread beneath my breast; I cannot even hear it beat.
I am lost, said the sparrow, I cannot find my heart. It, too, has but a thread holding its heart to its breast.
Two stubborn threads are all that connect us to our hearts. I am so near to the sparrow sitting on my shoulder that I hear his unsaid wishes. He leans so close that my thread and his become entwined, twist, and soon break free. Oh!
My heart is no longer hanging from a thread beneath my breast. My heart has been set free. My heart is not captured by weariness and wear, my heart is flying through the air.
There, is my heart, floating on the movement its beating alone makes. There, is my heart, sloping through the strands of time to remain disentangled and freed from disenchantment. I am full now, knowing freedom, holding firmly only to my Self and finding strength in movements unrestricted, unimpaired. Free as a bird is my heart as I soar in the big, bright Wholeness that now is my sky.
Beyond the clatter of my human steps I can hear the silent tread. It is silent because it is made of All and Everything. I can hear it because it is mine.
There is kindness in the room where I sit. And I sit like this to write about this kindness that is from my Light. I am the recipient of the immensity that becomes the ever new in me. It holds unwoven all that I have still to show, so I trust what is not here yet.
It is plainly understood by me that the one Breath contains my worlds. I am the Moon’s Beloved in the inner landscape I gaze upon when I close my eyes. This inner world of Beauty is mine alone and yet not for me alone for this gaze inward enhances my outer world’s possibilities: There are diamonds growing in my turnip patch. When I take the quiet path within myself, I see them both.
What I think are thoughts are in truth gentle energies; I have power. I take this power now and make the keys on this keyboard speak of the kindness my heart knows. I don’t doubt you want to see the diamonds nestling in among your turnips, too.
Good morning, my Today! Yesterday has walked away and left no trace of itself―free am I to call my world new.
In this present moment, my wellspring of life-giving water will not run dry for it draws from an Infinite depth. A glorious sun shines for me in a Limitless sky. My plain woven basket overflows with Fulfillment and my human heart pulses with Wonder.
A dreaming world is made fresh and innocent.
There is a life within me that becomes evident to me when I write like this. My outer mind disappears, my inner room becomes a rosy haze of reassuring warmth as the invisible truth makes its appearance to show me what cannot be known by judgment. I am fresh, entirely clear of past, uncompromised by future. I can move out into my world because something from me is creating for me.
I have become able to listen and hear my inner voice, not someone else’s voice. In this manner is my human world blessed and supported. I am not made from what the world believes and thinks. There is a greater life from whence I come and I give quiet attention to its new Moment that was never lived before.
Look, it is snowing. How soft and quiet the day becomes as the whiteness covers the world in a warmth that belies the cold I have been told it brings.
Oh, how I love this truer vision of things. The joy in my life had become lost to me as I grew inattentive to my inner knowing.
And now, the snow without uttering a word, is erasing the visibility of the trees and the presence of the people around them. As I watch, I know the trees love this moment. They are embraced in the Silence they and I look forward to each year―the sound of our eternalness.
The dormant leaves deep within the frozen limbs are rejoicing at this moment, too. They wait within their steady breath for the call to awaken from slumber. They are gathering strength even as they remain curled and nestled in invisibility.
That which will be the future has begun its life from within the depths of nothingness where all true things find origin. Just as I, in each moment that reveals itself, find myself being born to come forth and reveal the divine splendor within my humanness. I rejoice in being aware that I am this good thing.
Oh, it is so nice this time of year, to sit and contemplate a world that is wonderful. I write it down to relive it the rest of the year. It is well I have this truer vision to go to.
Large colorful ribbons crisscross the sky above me. They hold layers of understanding I cannot quite describe. But I live in a place where description is demanded of me because, here, perception is a thing blind to inner knowing. What is to be shared must be said aloud.
When I write, I do not worry about being blind to reality. I ask myself questions that burst with answers before the asking is completed. I live a Deep Mystery from an inner self that is not mysterious. It is in allowing for mystery that my soul is at peace and fulfilled because I trust what is invisible. I watch as my neighbor forages endlessly in the bowels of the earth for the wisdom I find instantly in the unseen. In looking to the hidden, I uncover a bountiful Basket of subtle provisions brought to my door of awareness. It has appeared unsought by me for it is unnecessary to seek what is already here. Life is ever present, and I know it.
I have another kind of cherished basket, too. One lovingly woven of reed and grass. I feel its love as it becomes filled with the fruit and bread of this world, the goodnesses that nourish me in a seemingly different way. It is interesting that this simple woven thing has been made by hands―hands belonging to quiet people who say little but leave deep meaning in their weaving. As you see, my outer world is as comforting to me as is my inner world of Soul. The one Love inhabits both.
I am reverent of the gifts that effortlessly enter my human world each day. I find useful creations brought forth by people whose names I will never know―people who represent the fulfilled expression of the infinite source of all. It’s true that in some parts of my day appear others clamoring for me to know their name by giving me not much more than their own brand of noise, but I never look there long because I know myself to be whole. What I hear in them is my own passing self-doubts. I live in a reality that always speaks to me truthfully of my own consciousness.
And so as I reduce to words this wonderful truth of my life, I go forward in my day knowing there is within me a deeper world, a sweeter truth, that makes the merely symbolic, rich with meaning.