I think I see crayon marks on the top of the table. Crayon marks come to mind because I spend my mornings drawing lines in little sketchbooks, filling them with unexpected swirls that I don’t force but follow, I am allowing them to speak to me. I do not understand what they are saying, yet I love the result. That result is a graceful pattern of lines on a passive page that suddenly becomes lively. I see movement. I see balance and order, too, a harmony that just comes all by itself, as if there is an intelligence at work that does not need me to tell it what to do. I love that this living thing can come through me, show itself to me, transform my outer world from some mysterious inner cause I am not aware of. It’s quite magical, don’t you think?
That’s exactly what it is. I am here seemingly not thinking of anything specific and when I type, or when I take pen to paper, something appears. Appears as if out of nothing, from nowhere. It is as if there is an invisible life here all around, waiting to be seen, to be set free. Is that all there is to it, to be the human conduit for something unseen but always present, always ready to appear? That is not so difficult a thing, is it, to happily know that something waits for me to draw forth its apparition? To welcome it, express it, let it become. And, more than anything, to trust its worth just as it plainly appears to be: a thing from within me just as I am, just as who I am, just as what I am. Yes, I possess a sweet invisibleness and I sense that it is treasure.
So why do I go about feeling empty, waiting for the external to feed me, show me, entertain me? It is what comes from within me that is my aliveness. It is what comes from within me that I am to experience. Life on earth is not a tourist attraction for me, instead there is something unknown in me that is so full of life and possibilities that it perpetually knocks on my door to let me know it is present, that it wants to give me itself that I may be myself. I am created to know, to value, to love, to give birth to this thing I am.
The joy, the receiving of this birth has nothing to do with the world. Nothing to do with how the world will receive it, or not receive it. I did not come to enlighten a world of people. They are not the reason for my treasures, the reason for my expression. I am an invisible being, silent in my ways, but my nature is such that it externalizes itself to become worlds. It creates the earth for itself. I need not concern myself with how things are perceived here, how things work, or what the world thinks are needed to make things work. The work is done invisibly so that is not my responsibility. I realize, I ask, I shine the light from my invisibility into form. I make a rich display of it, never requiring permission, never needing a door in the world to open for me. Whatever I bring is whole, complete. My invisibility opens all the doors I need opened for fulfillment. My invisibility is the full blooming of life abundant, it is the release of my breath into the divine meadow to sway its grasses into whispers that soothe a heavy heart. My human heart. I can be glad for my invisibleness. It can never be known here on earth but my breath will mystically touch and bless many human hearts. And theirs mine. What more do we need?.
I am invisibleness from within an infinite invisible source meant to remain invisible in this world. I need not feel inconsequential or make myself visible, life is infilling me eternally. I have the body I need for this temporal journey and the things of its sustenance. All I need is awareness of the invisible me through the ongoing dialogue with it. Only that. Everything else has already been done. For me. For everyone.