Monday, 6/7/10 - Feel It?

Can you feel it?

It's coming.

Like the gritty ache in an old man's joints before a storm, I can feel it.



I know it's there even as it's gathering itself together. Dust particles from the four corners congregating and taking shape.

Without defining dimensions, it is still shapeless, nameless. But it is there.

Sensitive souls may detect something but they will not speak of it for fear that the merest mention of it might, like some experiment in quantum physics, shatter its core and send its particles skittering and careening willy-nilly hither and nigh.



Best at this time to let it be.

Let it be but watch the horizon. It will gather there, just beyond the arc of the earth.

Listen to the wind. It carries the whispers of awareness and awakening.

Feel the earth tense beneath your feet. There is a great inhalation, an anticipation and a wide, yawning stretch.

Sense the air, feel its currents shifting, softly stirring. Breathe deep and smell the scents from lands - and times - far, far away.

There are canvas sails unfurling, filling, flapping, now billowing and pulling taut against mast and line.

It's there.

I can feel it.

In a few days you, too, will know its there. You will see it reflected in my eyes. Look closely and you may see thundery grey clouds roiling and spitting shafts of blinding white light or you may see a clear polished pond reflecting the blueness of heaven, pristine and unblemished.

You may see ships on rough seas or out, beyond our galaxy, sailing the dark depths between the stars.



You may see straw-haired children playing with old clothes in dusty attics or you may see old people chasing dusty memories through fields of straw that open into broad, green, sunny meadows.

You may see mirrors broken, each fragment reflecting something strange and different and new.

You may see nothing more than me



or nothing less than you.



And by then it will be to late. The story will already have enough strength to birth itself.

It doesn't need me to give it life; it has a life of its own.

It chooses me only because I have learned to listen and to see.

I have learned to feel.

Can you feel it?

There is a story brewing...