Let the early morning whisper the sweet sounds of awakening. As the birds begin their chatter telling each other the sun is about to shine, breathe in the wonder of that. The inborn knowledge of awakening. It’s always there.
There is a conditioning of the human species that has evolved with us. It has buried the truth of who we are. We have been so conditioned by manufactured time that we no longer accept that time is eternal. There are 24 hours in a day, nothing more, nothing less. We wake, work, sleep over and over and over again. Rarely is thought given to this clock except to say there is never enough “time”.
Even as I write this, I watch the clock. Only 20 minutes and then I must get going. Hurry up thoughts! Hurry up and be prophetic! Oh, how I wish to change this mindset.
To be able to create a life that eliminates manufactured time. To celebrate the morning for the simple beauty of a sunrise. No other thought entering other than the Oh My God experience of light expanding across the horizon.
Stepping then into the garden as the sun rises and digging deep into the soil, feeling it’s coolness as I dig deeper. Bringing my focus to the dew on the petals of a daffodil. Watching the worm wiggle away creating a path for other creatures to follow. An underground highway bringing food to the intricate colonies created by the roots of the lovely flowers that sprout everywhere. Another world exists beneath our feet and yet we remain unaware.
Sitting at the table by the window writing words that have been softly gifted to me, I smile. I know that this is, indeed, a gift. One that was dormant for quite some time. Words flow easily some days. At other times they rest within, growing and changing as the thought that originated them sits back and smiles. Yes, a gift. Not one to be ignored, for sure, but a gift that is different every time it’s opened.
Walking side by side with a friend, my love, my children as we talk and laugh connecting deeply heart to heart – soul to soul. Allowing a cat to curl in the crook of my knee waiting for my gentle hand to settle into its fur. Standing at the sink feeling the water slip through my fingers as the soap cleanses my skin. Sitting in the quiet solitude of meditation feeling the air move in and out with each breath.
These are the whispers of this life. These are the moments in time where I am lost in time. Or am I? Is it possible that these are the whispers of the infinite, where time simply does not exist?
Listen to the whispers of the infinite.
From my heart to yours, Diane