A Corner Of My Room

There lives an inaudible whisper in a corner of my room.  It lives there night and day. The other parts of the house are perfectly normal.  I bang around in them and get the usual things done while the days flow into night, and round and round we go.

But, there, in that littlest corner, the one you do not ever notice for there is nothing about it to draw your attention, there in that corner, is the Understanding that came with me into Arlene Grastonthis world.  It parked itself quietly, unobtrusively, waiting for me to look there while the world called me to look elsewhere.  It loves me, you see, that Quiet One.  It knows what is real and it knows that I will return to the quiet side of things … before too long.

Look again, they say.  Is there anything in that corner but where two walls meet?  Of course not, you delude yourself, they tell me.  No, there is nothing to see there.  Not one little thing.  But I know in, nothing, is the Quiet One, the substance of all things made form, of every impulse to love and give forth.

Unencumbered am I in expression, for I carry the Vast Nothingness of this instant to all I do and express.  I do not repeat the past for I am not weighted down by that which has been … or will be.  It is sweet this life lived for the moment, knowing that as I play at being human, It will honor my needs and play along with my perceptions so that I know kindness where there appears discord — I will not be fooled by the passing images of the world.

What I give to myself becomes my life.  I give to myself awareness of the Vast Nothing out of which all comes.  It is my softest acknowledgement of It that makes Its Presence known to me.

It’s so simple, really.

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