defi
“He had not touched me. He did not need to. His presence had affected me in such a way that I felt as if he had caressed me for a long time.”
The Many Faces of Divine Intervention.
Part 2.
How many words have I used that do not belong to me?
Your word is all you have- what a silly statement!
Words belong to the world. Words bind us to the reality we create with others.
My thoughts are all I have. What I think nudges up from within. What comes out is not always aligned with what is inside this fertile underground.
I cannot share what is down there. It is too delicate; the layer I live and breathe in is too bright! It is not always safe under this sun I share with living beings.
I used to think that understanding was necessary to bridge the gap between who I am and who you are.
Now I see how naive I was! I am reframing my thought processes. To hell with being patient! I wait for no one. I will the Divine to me through my writing. These words are not frivolous as the stuff that comes from my mouth. I mean what I say and speak, though what is consious is not always aligned with the subconscious.
Into the well, we go.
Acceptance, Anias. The reality we transmit to the other is forged by acceptance, not understanding.
Acceptance of power.
Acceptance of struggle.
Acceptance of differences and diversity.
Acceptance of the imbalances.
Acceptance of the suffering.
Acceptance of the lack of knowledge- of ignorance!
Jesus said it first: forgive them; they do not know.
I belong to a tribe of dead poets. I have made peace with this place I've taken that is very lonely sometimes. I have very few spiritual friends. Is this the correct way to go about living? Is this perhaps the reason I want a cat so very badly?
It doesn't matter if the plants are plastic. This room feels more alive than the many I've inhabited with all sorts of breathing things!
I've changed; my relationship is causing a shift in the magnitude and the plastic plants are more real to me right now than the forest of flowers I walked through in the park! The magnificence is manifest from what you create. I write this repeatedly and I've just understood the meaning in this message.
The church bells ringing woke me up. Six chimes. I have lived that many lives and here I am, my seventh, for the first time breathing—beating wildly as the birds I watch from my window.
Someone leads the pack and it is impossible to tell who is in front and who is following. Does the authoritarian matter if the story's arc forms through a fellowship?
In my seventh reincarnation, I choose who I will become.
Photo source.
