The storm


It can be heard dripping down to puddles. It calms-to-end just as quickly as it came without warning, leaves a trail of itself behind so that the remembering stays.

The swimmers are many.

They tire.

Those who ride the current are few.

They arrive.

It is when we allow, when we open ourselves to the widening of Life that we get there to the place of our going.


We know only in the moment of our knowing. There is no future inside of now. There is no past called yesterday.

Watch your step.

The sand is quick to let you loose unto yourself, and what then? The self must be contemplated, reflected upon if expansion is to manifest.

This is why we sit:

that the current sees our receptivity, and takes us.

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