White Noise

This morning I felt it. As I sometimes do. I woke up early before the world to see the quiet, and the cool stillness.  Nature–the Great Mother–was baring herself to the unconditional acceptance of the sky and falling back into the wonder of itself. And I paused on my front porch while my soul connected to the place of it’s true home, devoid of the white noise of people and air conditioners and cars and flurry and chaos.  And as the sun rested in self-assured imminence behind mountains which stand guard like new parents, felt called into remembrance, that at every turn, nature—The Earth—will impassively stand in non-judgment of our human drama and flaws until we either save ourselves or perish.

And the indifference of it didn’t make me feel small; it made me feel reverent.

And some call the feeling “Source.”  Because to use “God” is at once generic and engorged, and laden with anthropomorphic religious fervor that keeps our appreciation of such tethered to the limitations of the five senses.  And “source” is a fine word anyways, holding the potential to rewind our consciousness to a now misted-over time of oneness, where—held inside string theory—we have known ourselves to be part of an invisible network of connections–ten dimensions of space—even though our conscious mind can only really understand and perceive three.

And the feeling of “Other,” or “All That Is” (or, simply, the acknowledgment of a higher intelligence), is the understanding of the still, quiet steady-state of our soul’s origin in which all events make cosmic sense.  Or will, given enough time, measured outside of a human comprehension; in years into the billions and epiphanic understanding that arrives in one millisecond.  In which we can pause and remember in a light, evening breeze–as the invisible Earthly force blows gently across our face and body–that unseen doesn’t mean non-existent.

And I stood on my porch this morning–this lovely, exquisite morning which I can never re-live and can never get back–and felt as one with Source, and thanked the world with authentic joy for letting me be part of it.

Because there is such hardship in this life.

But this morning I was healthy, and filled with gratitude, and in love with this world and my growth experience within it.

And in the quiet of the world and of the mind—where definitions expand and “God” becomes “Source” and 3 dimensions become 10–the evolution of what’s possible changes, pushed into growth by experiences of hardship, before coming to bloom inside us amid the mountains and threads of invisible harmony ready to embrace a quiet mind.

And, for that—outside of God and labels and proper definition—it feels as if a miracle.

For, this morning, even the clouds reflected back my inner peace. And, in the shadow of hardship, my own consciousness had stilled to a point where I could feel—in the quiet coolness, awaiting that imminent sun—that outside the fallacy of three dimensions, there will always be peace to be had.

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