The sands that dust the horizon at dusk become the clouds for the rainy days when my heart is groaning with despair.My heart is surprised it needs to groan with despair.It didn’t know it was made to do this, but since we’ve arrived here together in this human world, it does this a lot.
My heart lives sweetly within me.It often slows itself down to infrequent beats to help me hear what is even softer than my breath.My heart knows it is important that I hear the Silence.We both need to hear the Silence.My heart tells me often of the delicate mystery of the Silence.It speaks of this in mysterious terms but somehow I understand, when I take the time to listen.
My heart is so glad when I come to it, all humble and a little bit lost.It doesn’t want my weakness, of course, but it has learned it is in weakness I can receive what it gives.Other times, I am slaying dragons and shouting from rooftops that I am strong and full of spice and vinegar to conquer all that needs conquering in my world.When I am tired of the battles, weary of the treacherous disappointments, I return humbled and modest and able to hear the quiet murmurs of important things said not in words.
My heart has been missing me lately.This I know for it is telling me this now.It is clearing the way for me to find my true self for I am that which is made of faithfulness but have felt lost.At the center of my being is the very foundation of a Life and Love that contains me in certainty.I am the truth of Its being.I know from Its knowing.I am forever upheld in Its goodness.
My heart is guiding me even through this block of words on a lighted screen, because I am not saying things that are merely words and punctuations.I am not really living in a world that needs to be said aloud or waited for.I am not even the disguise of a lost soul.I am the one who stands solid on Nothingness.
But have I been needing something?Something the outer world cannot give me?Can there be a reason for my despair?
Yes.There is a secret longing in my heart – from my Heart — to have, even in this Human world, my one true self, the one not visible to my eyes … or yours. I want to remember Who I really am.
You asked, and a swell of learning is unfolding for you in the gentlest way. Gently, because you understand gentleness. Your intrinsic nature is of the softness you always write about. I speak of your True Nature, dear one; the one that breathes beyond the one you have come to think is yourself. There is no need for you to go on believing in the artifice of time or of self. It has caused you to weave yourself into a Being who isn’t meant to replace you, not even in a world of disbelief.
You have become afraid of yourself. You feel confusion in all your ways. You have been worried about the Anger and think you must control it lest it destroy you and all the tender wonders within you. You have feared that it can take away your truth, that it can obliterate the very essence of your being and never let out the tranquil life of truth. But the Thing Within is indestructible, it cannot ever be harmed. Your Human emotions cannot separate you from peace; trying to control them can appear to.
Listen carefully, you are not the Human story. In believing you are, you attempt to control a sense of self that is not who you are. You have relinquished the real life by focusing too much on the external and trying to overcome it. As you let go of doing this, as you slowly give the outer world less and less consideration by not concerning yourself with getting it right, the new, that is from Forever, will flourish. Give no thought for the thing you have created out there. On it no hat can hang, it is of nothing made and has no desire of its own to own you or limit you. You are limitless. Be this one.
Tender Thought, where are you coming from? You exist in the quiet corners only.
The loud outer world is fully center stage and takes up room and makes a fuss.
But you, Tender Thought, you are soft and reassuring like the breeze on a warm day.
You are tranquil like the love that fills my heart in the midst of a meadow filled with tall gently swaying grasses.
You are the One I keep looking for and you are the One I need never seek–for you are nearer than the dearest part of me. You are the morning of every day that appears out of the mist of Foreverness into time and space. You are hidden but not lost. You are mine and you are me. I am what you are for expressing though I have come to express mostly what I have been told by outer concepts.
You are so quiet, so nearly not there that I find it hard to find you, not finding myself too clearly in this world of “other people.”
But finding you is the only thing that matters. Isn’t it?