Swimming in this Magellan Sea/See, feeling a sense of lack of groundedness. Harkening into an internal space of vacuum that wants to crack open, yet braces itself. Like, stepping into this labyrinth of language and concept and esoteric description of universal truth will suck into that space and choke out the small seed of understanding that lies in wait inside.
I am listening to that seed and I am hearing it … I don’t even have to be whisper-quiet to hear its tune anymore. So loud in its silence, my “new-ish” constant companion. It wants to be nourished. It wants exposure to truth. It wants safety. It wants holding. It wants to be cared for. It wants to care for.
Feeling as if I’m holding a transparent puzzle piece up to the Light, seeing if the secret code is revealed… asking that seed, with each piece illumined, if it recognizes something. Putting the piece down if the song is no, putting the piece in my pocket if the song is yes… and I can hear the difference between yes and no, oh yes, can I hear it. YES is Baroque-to-my-soul! As I listen, I hear, and my little seed chimes in, and I listen to it, and I hear it… and I trust it. And it rejoices that I am listening, hearing, harkening… finally.