Today the sun is healing me, revitalizing me, and empowering me as I write this note. The West has won my heart with its ever-present light and dance of elements. The sky moves through me like a sand painting, beautifully etched in brilliant colors in my mind’s eye, then quickly replaced by a grey cloth covering of memories filled with heavy drops of cleansing water.
I miss him, but this too passes quickly back into a great light of warmth holding me still in the moment of now. I have learned to surf these moods and write them out like colors and tones harmonically healing me in a symphony of nature’s music. Love is ever-present in me and pouring through the veins of time. I write words but words cannot describe the essence of life, love, or God that I feel.
God is what I have come to know in this year of musing through a traveler’s soul. I came to quest my nature. Solid? I don’t know. Stable? I don’t know. Real? What is reality? I don’t know.
The artist surfaced and spoke to me in a language of lyrical discontent. Colors rambled on like ribbons flowing out of me. Circling words, thoughts, images, sounds, scents, memories of vulnerabilities imprisoned in a cellar of silence. I walked through the winds of Kansas and prayed at the foot of an ancient alter of Our Holy Mother… click click take me home…but what did that mean? Home was never solid, stable, or real….home was never safe. Never as safe as the tornado that I could see. Never as safe as the winter storm that banks us in a coat of coldness. Never as safe as the flood that rises and gives you time to swim. Home was never a safe place to bare my soul and open my heart.
So many new people I have come to meet this year call the wind their home and plant their roots in the soil of faith alone. All the world is unstable now. All the world is reframing their sense of what matters, their sense of what is truly solid and stable.
I have learned to surf new oceans of deeper emotions. The thoughts that used to tumble me into the depths of despair are looked upon now with a greater respect for lessons learned from a compulsive haste. Escaping reality is an illusion. We must all face the voice of our programmers sometime in life. We must all find the courage to surf alone and become our own authority.
Here in the West, I have found the solid ground of my own soul rooted in the shifting sands of time. For the first time I feel my life is mine and there is nothing more to fear. Life and death move their waves through me without the useless noise of chaos or drama.
I wrote words when I was a child, both harsh and sweet, based on dreams of going to a place where life was pleasant and people were genuine. I wrote words yet I spoke very few. Silence was what I sought. Silence was what I needed. Heaven was the voice I heard in my heart, yet the neon noise in my mind was so loud that my world became a carnival. Psychologically undermining spirits folded their arms around my life until my words were gone. Vacancy and dead silence entombed me. Buried alive. Not the kind of silence that God offers us in life.
Words were once my friends I met on the page. They danced with me in a lyrical flow. They traveled with me on great adventures and they urged me to honor the greatness of divinity in my own soul. My words wanted to be written. They wanted life.
Yet, as I aged, my fear of words grew strong as the words that were used to program me as a child clung to the lyrical creative threads in my mind like a southern kudzu mountain and emerged as animated monsters whenever I activated a dream of happiness and potential. These programmed words were not my friends at all. They were harsh, angry, and frightening. They had harsh angry voices attached to them that thundered with marching lightening bolts through my head. All creative action and happy words stopped for those storms.
No monster is greater than the monster you know. Thus, our words are taken into a family cellar and held in chains of fears until a holy light replaces the darkness in our minds. Until we hear the words of a real love.
Love needs no words in truth. Love flows into us on a holy veil of goodness and truth by chance, by fate, by God. Love saves our words and welcomes us into a holy silence of freedom. We need silence to know ourselves. We need silence to hear the voice of God.
God does not program us to be disempowered by fear and fright. How would the world flourish if fear were God’s only intent for creation. No. Seeds of fear are not God’s plantings for fear cannot bear the fruits of love.
Love is the seed of God’s light and from that light we are born into new words of sweet, holy joy, and creative abundance. This is what I have found to be true for me.
The landscape of the West moves me to walk in the silence of my soul with God as my friend on the page and in my heart. God moves our hand with goodness and joy not with a crippled pain of resentful obstinance and fear.
I have words now, still harsh at times and indulgently sweet at other times, yet now the days of endless sunshine and spots of rain clouds give me great space and sky to let the monsters dance away in their turbulent winds and I am not bound to follow them or be silenced by storms any longer.
Storms carry a beautiful destruction with them from which comes a gentle peace and a renewed vitality for life. Wisdom is in the words of silence and the heart of love. God speaks in tongues that are all around us and moving through us if we only open to the moment of His creative breath.
I offer you all the suggestion that love is always present in the landscape of our heart no matter how dense the air of our cellar of family darkness and secrets may seem. The light shines through the tiniest cracks and nature finds its way to the cleansing waters of truth eventually. Truth sets us free to be who we are in our soul. Listen for your sounds of silence and hear the words of your divine truth. You are loved forever and always. God is always with us in our heart and in our prayers.
Love is in the echo…