“For the journey to begin, first it is necessary to arrive”
The journey has no end in any sense of the word “end”. It begins all the time and always.
“I arise, I flower, I am to melt away”
The journey analysed melts into millions of fragments I call EveryNow.
These EveryNow fragments resemble the diamonds of light my early childhood self remembers seeing, when I wandered out of our home into a Midsummer dawn.
The sunrise came filtering through light rain on the eastern horizon. Everywhere everything was bathed in a rare, ethereal, rosy orange glow.
As the rising sunlight grazed the dew drops on the cow pasture, the small boy I was saw the meadow as a sea of diamond rainbow lights.
Dreamlike is the quality of the journey which is clasped in the peace of acceptance.
The dissolution of the journey becomes the journey.
I seek not the journey, I seek to become.
In the becoming, peace grows an intimate wildflower meadow in my heart.
My pilgrim heart contains all the peace I need for a fulfilled and fulfilling life.
~ And Love is present EveryNow
…. .♪♡♪. ….
…. .♪❀♪. ….
My little boy had this transcendental experience in the Midsummer sunrise over the meadow!
Mum and I were in our thatched cottage in the quietest countryside. The cottage is shown on the Domesday Book map.
It’s one of a few in a traffic free hamlet named Sedrup Green set around a cow pasture at the end of a single track lane where farm labourers dwelt.
On this morning my Mum was asleep. I must have opened my eyes and seen the eeiry red cast outside. I let myself out of the house and I walked around in disbelieving wonder at the way everything glowed under the same ruddy red rosy light.
I remember standing facing the sun and I shifted my weight slightly in my sandalled feet to capture the tiny rainbow glints refracted off the dew drops in the longer grasses.
God knows how long I stayed there receiving this benediction. It was long enough that my 73⅞ old self today can return to my boy soul and be with his enchanted subdued excitement.
He felt the need to share this phenomenon. And this revertion of attention to a third party caused him to become aware of his presence in the graceful silence of the overarching dawn skies.
This grace somehow belonged to him. It quickened him as he observed himself the solitary privileged witness to one of the glories of the natural world freely visible, offered unconditionally.
Just as it had arrived, this temple of grandiose pink silence was beginning to slip away and meld into something underwhelmed.
As the sun rose higher, I kept an afterburn image, which I now clasped tight in my child heart.
I ran back inside the house. I said to my Mother, “Mummy, there are Diamonds in the grass!”
Shantih Shantih Shantih