Where does she live? That deepest divine spark at the core, from the beginning of time? I long for her. She feels just out of reach much of the time, during most of my human day. I show up. “Good morning”, I say, but she may or may not respond. They still seem like meetings of chance. It’s the yearning of my lifetime.
It’s the yearning for constant contact with All That Is. My inner knowing always accessible. An on-going sense of communion. A constant infusion. An intravenous, divine drip. Is this a road to be traveled alone? Is this a foreign language I long to speak? My most intimate companions on this path try to hear me, try to see what I am reflecting back to them. They feel my desire for conversations that live in the mystery, shake the foundation. I say, “did you hear what you just said?” Turning them towards their own prayer being answered. “Too much,” they reply, “but I love you.” Zest from the belief in magic can be entertaining. A squealing toddler atop daddy’s foot. “You are cute…believing in fairy tales.” But, “nonsense”, may be seen in their eyes. Heartbreaking. How can I make them understand, when I don't fully understand? If I persist, they may tire of my wild heart. Grow weary from my urgency, my expression. May perceive it as drama. Turn away. Even laugh. “Be careful, you will be alone,” I say to myself. “Stop talking.”
Stardust, the power of the divine, is coursing through our veins. The multi-dimensional fabric we are made up of wants to be seen. Words spoken in a journal matter. Words spoken to ourselves matter. Our combined voices change the vibration of the cosmos.
There she is...