Photograph by Daniel Weiss at https://unsplash.com/photos/KCNwEiRaNBA
In the quietest of the hours is when you visit me the most. What am I to make of these meetings? Are you suggesting that I keep you a secret, almost scandalous to enjoy you selfishly alone? Or do you mean to present yourself in these magical hours where I may attempt to polish you your brightest, exhibit to the world tomorrow? Draw out some awe, instil some inspiration, provoke some deep thoughts ? Please tell me, my writing inspirations, for I am a mere vehicle, a bond, to connect you to where the highest need lies.
The above is straight out of the universe. Early, early morning this past Thursday. 2-3 am. I had a bad cold and I had no sleep. It was not me writing it, yet my thumbs wouldn’t stop moving on my phone. Or so it felt. It was as if oozing out. Unhindered with the many distractions that broad daylight brings with it. The silence just let the universe converse with the deepest parts of me. It’s not describable in words, what the universe was saying. There are no words to describe it; the messages from the universe are simply to be felt; just as simply, they are universally understood just as well, if we just listen.
Yes, I know that I haven’t really said what the universe was saying. As I said, I cannot describe it. The above is simply a description of the experience. There was no agenda, no motive. It wasn’t a task. It wasn’t a teaching. It wasn’t a realization or an answer to any deep, chronic questions that I have. It was a sensation. Pure and strong, just for the mere purpose of being felt without expecting anything in return. And so I just sat there, listening.