Whispers of eternal truth.
The moment you’ve uttered the words their resonance reach your soul depths, such that you know you have spoken an eternal truth. Not just any eternal truth; your own.
The proceeding gaps in time are profound as the significance of your insight sinks in. Such whispers from the unconscious take months or years to come to understand and practice. Passing glimpses of a clearer world.
An amalgamation of fear and unacceptance limit, restrict and delay these attempts at synchronising the conscious and the unconscious, dissipating illusions and revealing the simplicity of truth.
Perhaps the fear will even swallow us whole, if we let it.
Overcome by a slow gradual shift, we become strangers to ourselves. A couple trying to make it work; sleeping in different bedrooms every night.
Tip-toeing, ballet dancing around fights; lack of confrontation and a simmering frustration, until we reach boiling anguish.
The nature of the soul is slow, and calm, measured and calculated, and just like the sea it always maintains its capacity to transition into a tempest in an instant. It nudges us calmly, and consistently weathering away our illusions, yet we resists. We ignore the gaping holes in our lives, and so the storm comes.
It also passes.
Then welcomed by the fresh smell left behind by these eternal tears, the passing of deep sorrow. Struck with awe at the star filled sky formed from beads of light, harnessed by each tear left, on a blade of grass. Light twinkling on the surface of the ocean, oscillating its message through the crash of each wave.
Apart from letting go of our resistance to life, I am not sure there is anything we can do but wait and listen for the whispers of the unknown. They will come in their own time, as the river gets eroded away. As the beach forms one grain of sand at a time.
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