It's Time

It can settle down now, all of it. The cellular hubbub, the atoms and particles of your body. All those electrical storms and that neurochemical frisson. It can all stop vibrating with such abandon, that jitter and shriek of Life that doesn’t quite know where to go.

It can know where to go now, if you let it. You can know where to go.

Water seeks its level. Leaves and branches seek the sun. There’s no contradiction between resting deeply and doing what must be done. They’re the same, here.

All the words and images, the sounds and sensations — like a raging storm that slows and softens and stops, you can allow reality to grow calmer within you, to grow still all around you. It’s okay. The clocks are all winding down. The fireflies are lazy, over the slow grass beside the church.

In the afterglow of something we don’t yet understand, Mission blooms softly from the center of something we don’t yet understand.

You’re almost Home. We’re almost Home. It’s okay. You don’t have to try so much.

It’s time, now. Time for something we don’t yet understand. We don’t have to understand it to live it. Water seeks its level. We just have to quiet down, to listen, to live what we hear in the still, slow grass. We just have to Live. It’s time.