Who or what is this “source” we talk about?
How does it present itself to me?
How doesn’t it? And why?
Why does any of this exist?
What is the purpose of it all?
How do I fit into the scope of this unfathomable existence?
Such are the questions man has been pondering for time immemorial.
Such are the questions and ensuing conversations that fill my mind, my life, my being.
Some days my understanding is crystal clear. Some days the fragility of it all creates more questions than answers, and along with it some amount of confusion.
Some days the stable ground I feel I have been walking on shifts, and my equilibrium requires yet another, deeper recalibration.
But as is so often the case, whenever I have a moment of questioning, a moment when my beautiful but limited mind is trying too hard to figure it all out, the mystery itself appears in front of me, as if to say…
…I hear you, child.
And I am reminded on a deep cellular level, reminded from the non-local place in my intuitive, etheric heart, that I myself am the creator. The perpetual re-calibrator of my entire existence.
That the answers to all the unanswerable questions actually don’t need to manifest into form – thought, tangible or otherwise.
That the universe is always responding, rearranging, recalibrating for this human experience… but that the great mystery itself, is nothing short of inherent perfection.
And the fragility of this human experience is but a part of that perfection.
That I am but a part of that perfection.
And that you, whomever you are, wherever you are, however you are, are part of that perfection too.
