pay attention to the magic that still lingers in the morning… the quieter you are, the louder and brighter it becomes to your senses. don’t let one day of your life go by without catching it… that’s how regrets are born.
Abraham, acceptance, allow, antimatter, appearence, appreciation, awareness, being, body, bungee jumping, clouds, collage, contrast, cosmic, death, dis-ease., disease, doing, evolution, existence, expansion, human, June, living in the mind, manifestation, matter, mind, moment, mood board, mood boards, nature, nonphysical, pear, petty, physical, physical plane, protection, rațional, rampage, random, real, reality, reason, red, saturated, science, sky, soul, sour cherry, still life, summer, time, trees, Universe
We get so caught up in the physical and the mind, we forget that there was and always will be something before them, something no physical or rational demonstration could equal it.
Life doesn’t wait for science to catch up with it.
We worry about all the apparent aspects, trying to trim the already manifested, because we’re taught that we should make a smooth transition between us and the things that we come in contrast with, and we get so good at it over the years, that we forget the contrast is meant to be there, to help us remember what we do want. And in the end nobody remembers how to do the real us… Then, of course, we have more stuff to worry about, getting lost in petty things that aren’t helping us or the ones around us, except maybe for future reference. But aren’t we saturated with the history of how life could go wrong?
Time wouldn’t be made of moments, unless we were meant to live in the moments. Not the bungee-jumping-living in the moment type, but the accepting-appreciating-and-allowing-it-to-expand-living in the moment type.
The protection we think we get by analyzing and preparing all the time is ultimately also a protection from expansion, which is how the Universe works, since the beginning of time, when the first cosmic breeze lifted a speckle of matter and antimatter into what was the predecessor of what we call reality. Until we understand that expansion, we will still face the thriving of unwanted things in our lives, through dis-eases of the body or dis-eases of the soul.
But then again, that is the path of our own evolution, and we are becoming more aware of it, bit by bit. Everything that exists in your life made you, even before you were a thought of future manifestation. What comes into your life is called by you and the ones you know, or by the ones that want to know you. Even death has a way of making your existence matter.
Don’t waste time. Don’t waste your moments. There is no reason to 🙂
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Patterns scattering across consciousness…
The everchanging process mistaken for a structure,
dying to be born again,
weaving itself onto the abstract notion of time,
we forget we were born out of the vibration of bliss.
This is our only true faith,
of becoming again one with what created us in the beginning.
art, atoms, body, cells, clock, drawing, experience, feel, gratitude, healing, heart, human, immaterial, life, light, memory, moment, now, observer, orange, pace, path, red, reminder, root chakra, sacred, share, silence, soul, time, window, worthy
There is a certain pace at which life makes sense just the way it is. A pace at which you can actually feel the moments.
A pace at which your cells know their true path.
A pace at which you understand why some things exist and others don’t, and why you are among the first.
A pace at which you know how and why things happen.
A pace at which you grasp the wordless definition of time, a definition given by your soul, and not by man-made mechanisms.
A pace at which your body is grateful.
A pace at which you can let go, and keep only what resembles your sacred making.
A pace at which the skin of an orange slice doesn’t break, when parted from its sisters, at which your gaze heals another human being, a pace at which all life around you acknowledges you with every step you take, a pace at which you can actually share your experience.
At which you observe the traces of life on a glass window and the traces of what was, on your heart.
At which you give no one proof of being worthy, because everyone already knows it.
At which your atoms remember when they were immaterial silence and light.