In the early morning hour, when the light begins to flicker through the grey of night.  I awoke. 

And through timeless motion something begins to stir.


Movement with the lack of action, and yet all is in motion. 

Petal by petal the unveiling reveals itself.


New visions now carry with them markings of the unfamiliar. 

A flower opening, and watching life from a place of silent presence.


Observing. An act of non-doing that rolls in more comfortably these days.

Non-action in the midst of action.


A watcher’s encapsulated vision now moving beyond the obvious. 

The obvious. Whatever that means anyway. Another label placed on society. What might be obvious to one, has to be obvious to another, right?


What is this I’m feeling?  A feeling indescribable. 

A seeker searching for words and left with a lack of discovery. 

Words. Meaningless vehicles to carry things that are of utmost meaning.


And this. Is this perhaps love, I’m feeling?  

Love.  How does one compress such magnificence into something so small? A 4- letter word?


These unfamiliar feelings brewing inside, are leaving me feeling mysteriously beautiful. 

And how does the flower shares her fragrance, this bubbling gift inside, if words can only degrade this fragrance of pleasure?


Is it perhaps a gift not to be shared with the outside world?


Perhaps this is a gift to the blossoming flower, and not to the bees that are seeking the life inside of it.


It is a gift onto itself. A flowering inward. An expansion while retrieving from words, thoughts and all that used to be colored by the fragrance of familiar.


To stay in this sweet space of perfection, one cannot desire to give it away to another. In exchange for it’s teachings, it needs to receive the gift of opening.

To allow its fragrance to permeate, the petals to drop, and the pleasures to merge. 

No need to resist.


So repeat after me.

You are so ready.