Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Thorugh An Empty Jar 1 w Thorugh An Empty Jar 2 w Thorugh An Empty Jar 3 w

There are days when the dust of drying old structures and the echos of words said to conquer, and not to love, still settle over my path; and although the lighthouse in my heart still shines on it, I find it harder to figure out where my next step will be. And sometimes the slippery fear patterns try to seduce me on their negative spiral, or at least leave their trace on my soul.

And then there are days when my Ego sees the evidence of what is truly worthy and remembers that the belief in separation is pointless. In those days I step into the Knowing contained in my Dream. It is then when everything makes sense, all at once, in the most overlooked of layers of reality.

Contemplating the warmth of the blood in my veins against the cold rain outside.

The way my watercolor set looks through the empty water jar.

This moment unfolding into the future and the past.

 

Versiunea în română: https://soulpatterns.wordpress.com/2013/10/06/printr-un-borcan-de-sticla-gol/