I often speak about weavings and how the threads of existence spin together to form perfection. This golden thread that lies within our hands, a representation of the choices we make, the energy we imbue on to our reality. What is this grand tapestry that holds infinite meaning yet is pointless in its entirety, or at least pointless in the context of our understanding. There is so much more I have yet to know. So much love to give, bursting at the seams from the source of all that is. The one grand source that bestows upon us this thread that we sow on the narrative of our universe.
The wind offers a gentle caress to the trees as lovingly as our purpose whispers to the very cells of our body and core of our soul. We all have our purpose to serve. We must own our narrative and our lives and go within to search for all the answers our soul seeks. Look at how beautiful this life is, how lucky we are to feel, to find connection, to see ourselves as alternate reflections behind the eyes of other. To be mirrors and to be mirrored. Love is so beautiful.
It is not the outside perception of man that defines who they are. Rather it is the soul that resides within them. The strength and conviction of the soul. It’s understanding of the mission and purpose it set out to achieve. Everything has a reason. Nothing is an accident in this grand tapestry. Everything serves the collective purpose. Each action and inaction leading to some form of finality that then opens up to another moment. Just like the caterpillar transforms into a butterfly, breaking itself apart and re-inventing itself. Just like the cell splits and replicates itself to form this solid reality. Everything is interconnected, the soul a fuel to this engine of physical reality.
We must let go of all expectation and give ourselves to the universe. We must surrender to our divine purpose. Everything is perfection. Life is a mirage. A golden perspective that drives us back to the source, our home. Sometimes to love something is to let it go, but the love still remains, an echo, transcending the bounds of time, space and physical reality.