I cannot speak for you, only what seems true for me.
As I step away and look, the Spirit always waits in darkness,
Complex, quiet, often making itself known
Through hints and whispers.
When discerned, the presence of this Spirit is always special,
Though I think it waits in the silent empty spaces.
Actually, I’d say it is an ordinary thing,
If only we were trained to see, had ears that could hear,
Were intuitive or perceptive enough to sense its presence.
But we move quickly through days of our lives,
Paying no attention— unless we suffer,
Lose in love or death comes close.
Something extraordinary needs to happen
To see this ordinary thing.
Allow the mighty Self to fade in quiet meditation.
Sit or slowly walk in silence until undone—
Until you are touched, embraced even once in a lifetime.
There is nothing you can do to force this situation.
Learn which ways your Spirit goes
Or speaks in images within deep sleep.
When you meet, there is both knowing it and never knowing.
I wish I could show you a certain path,
But coming back along another’s course would be irrelevant.
We both know how singular the work bends —-
We live in times where people try to escape the pain,
But at times such path can also teach us.
Honor the light that waits within the veil of darkness.
Go into inner gap where boredom waits.
Practice dying, let go of everything you’ve acquired.
Stop trying to escape the past or plan your future.
Take off your shoes in this holy moment—
Walk softly into your fine dark spaces.