Her all-consuming touch

She comes to me naked, in the purity of her presence, without the garments of light, sounds, life and thought.

I’ve known her longer than myself. I’ve known her before I, before time, before the memory of her.

I have seemed to forget her, and in the dark dungeons of forgetfulness, in that mindless chaos of existence, I looked for her.

She was there, always, hidden in every desire and every which pain.

Behind every corner of thought, peeking or waiting at the periphery of the horizon of time and experience, she shines eternally in relentless and unwavering wait.

She weaves and undoes the endless tapestry of existence phenomenal, waiting for the beloved to come to her as vagabond, worthless suitor, with his only claim in the secret chamber of his heart–an arrow certain and true.

She comes to me naked, silent, and I am blinded and deafened by her all consuming touch.

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Of personal destinies

Our destiny is often not what our egos and personalities have come to want. The words of others telling us what to become are often false guides. Only the nature of your true self provides the reason for your incarnation and the direction of your spirit. The key is to simply find yourself, and connect to that silent center as you live your life. The thinking mind doesn’t really need to be the one aware of our destiny, because there’s an invisible hand drawing our story. That hand is the truth of yourself, your essence. Trust in it. Listen in silence, and your destiny will be the most sure and immovable part of your experience in this life.