Soul Speak

What is it to listen to your soul speak? To be still and open and light or dark... just be. There is a flow that I've felt since I was young, a current that streams and is spilling over always just there... under the skin, behind the eyes, beneath the surface. It is calm and knowing and patient and kind. It reminds me of people like my Grandparents, but it is it's own wisdom.  It drifts up, exposed in hushed chapels and hovers in a mossy grotto or blows you over on a mountain top. It's there, trickling, in coffee shop chaos on 85th & Lex on the Upper East Side in Manhattan. Where ever I go, there it is if I remember to listen.

There are pulses and waves and tides to the flow of it. Waxing and waning in and out over and through. There is no concern only curiosity and wonder, surrender and letting go... gushing in and running out.

I watered the garden this morning and listened to the birds and hung on every sound. I went out on Lake George yesterday just boating about and took some of the photos on the banner/header... but just taking it all in... drifting in ... ebbing out...

Some little voice whines about purpose and progress, perfection and promotion... that little voice is only scared to let go and open up. What will I do? Who am I? Why am I here? Hush, hush small one, young one, hush, hush and be still. All will be revealed or nothing at all. And this is fine and grand and marvelous all at once while it is frightening and disturbing. Time will tell.

And why do my eyes tear up? I've touched something deep and special darkly shining. So beautiful it draws out things long hidden. Perhaps a dam is breaking? Perhaps a breezy wind will clear away the webs of years of fearful thoughts? 

Why, yes! And why not!

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