What Matters To Me

I know there is a quiet place deep within the hidden part of me.  It is a tender corner that holds all of the Universe within it.  It takes up no room and knows nothing of space or time.  It is the sweet invisible that is the very source of my most treasured sense of self.  It is the loving arms upholding me and breathing into me the wonders that make my heart thrill.

I have thought that I could never feel You again, Secret One of My True Self.  I have looked for You where You are not: in other people, in the stories they tell of their lives.  I read and read, I looked and looked, and waited for scraps of proof that You could be found in this Earthly world.  I’ve waited to hear from others what they found, if they found, and how well they lived with You.  But the more I looked, the more I sought, the more the emptiness grew within me.  How could we speak to one another, You and I?  Oh, how I’ve missed You.  I have been so good about learning the language that is spoken here, the one rendering soft thoughts into hard concepts turned into bits of sound that must be strung just so—only to be found inadequate and misunderstood.

I’ve found it hard to turn myself away from the world of “other people” and be still with You.  I’ve wanted to bring them with me, or thought it must be so that I should bring them with me and have them share in the goodness.  To go somewhere without them was arrogant on my part, and even more it was selfish and made me a cold, self-centered person.  To turn my back on this world and to go to You, alone, seems selfish.  And yet …   

… You are the Life of all of us, aren’t you?  You are the order of all being, the very thing that keeps the seam from ripping, the place that never changes but grows to unfold and reveal the tenderest new thing full with possibilities and delight in being expressed.  You are the very reason the snow comes to remind us of the hush of stillness that is Your Voice.

Oh, how I miss You. Oh, how I miss my True Self. Oh, how I want to speak “our” silent language again.  Oh how I want to make, You, most real of all.  Show me how.  I’m listening.

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