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"She sees now that it is a state of nothingness that is so strangely full in which she occupies space. She can move up and down, sideways and around, a state of awareness waking within the dream.
Her beat is Love, her will fierce, she won’t back down.
-Lucky Boots
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Postby Christine » Sun Jul 08, 2018 7:31 pm


Nothing moves for no wind does not move her craft. In the deep stillness she sits. She chases the wind no more.

In this place she is aware of all that is before and now and of what will be. Integrating bits and pieces takes some time to pull from the nothingness left behind. The mind stays still then fills with the timeless memories, all colliding in her space she can not move momentarily. She sits. Cast adrift on the cosmic sea with sail set she must wait patiently. She’s heard the knock of eternity at her door, will she open it?

Ecclesiastes 1:18 17. So I set my mind to know wisdom and madness and folly; I learned that this, too, is a pursuit of the wind. 18. For with much wisdom comes much sorrow and as knowledge grows grief increases.

The contemplation’s of the mind will only reach a certain shore and there she must let go of what came before.

And this word nothingness keeps rising in her mind, she holds it in her hand and moves it around and upside down. What she sees is that nothingness is but a desire for annihilation. For there is only emptiness and fullness in the hour glass of time. Deeply buried in our deep psyche wound is a rift for once we were torn in two and ever since we have longed for home, for the whole and the true. She sees the masses of humanity on course toward annihilation that which is playing out on the world’s stage, our flat plane.

A wound that bears the many scars of all the walls we have built to keep the pain out. We long for our Mother’s unconditional love and we look to the sky above seeking the approval of our Father’s gaze. We have allowed these creative energies to be reduced down a bare flicker of a flame. We do not see that we are born of that creation and so within each of us is our mother and father’s gifts, everyone. And yet we linger waiting for those who rarely come to show us the strength of their love.

She will calmly sit until the next wind blows at her back, turning over again and again the hour glass of time.

The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.

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