How can I tell you what is happening, when-where our minds are turned off: the delicate dance of creation, the rhythmic unfolding and refolding of time, the waves flowing, and turning—turning—and turning.
Yes, that is something like it.
We haven’t understood what all of this is. How could we? I tried to write about it, in the way I thought you wanted to hear; with the words I thought you wanted me to use.
I couldn’t do it.
The thoughts at the tip of my mind can’t explain it; from that vantage, we don’t understand life, it seems. But only from someplace far deeper. Yes.
I think my brain was damaged, from the pain of trying to be; and of making myself for you—proving that I am someone I am not.
All of that can be over now. We have gone nowhere, and have arrived no further than when we started. And we have lost nothing. What has always been, still is; and what we were, we also are, and can remain.
I’m sorry if you don’t understand. The important things are not to be read online, or discovered from a spreadsheet—no textbook will teach it—and we cannot reason it out.
Rather, it is unfolded in the place and time just before we sleep—in our halfway—between worlds, before and after explanation.
Everything here is music. Vibration. Devotion. And Worship.
Here we know we are made for God.
~FS
Prayerful Life 