metaphysical writing
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(Headphones on-Meeting of the Higher Selves-Patrick Bernard-and to think 30 minutes ago we were at the gym listening to Welcome to the circus-FFDP-The Irony in life is epic) You don’t really understand the weight of being human until you’ve already crossed the threshold.Not the one people talk about — not awakening, not enlightenment, not surrender…
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(Headphones on-Sweet Inspirations-Thomas Kinkade) Living in Two Planes and the Madness That Follows You don’t realize you’re slipping until you notice your mind keeps its own calendar. One day you’re here—keys in the door, lights humming, water running in the sink—while another version of you is still standing in a hallway that never existed in…
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It didn’t happen with thunder or revelation.It happened in the space after the word was spoken—in the stillness where nothing should have moved,but something did. The universe didn’t echo you.It answered.Not in language, but in recognition—like a veil thinning, like an intelligence that had been awake far longer than you had been speaking. Nothing was…
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What is spoken into being eventually develops a voice of its own. There comes a moment in every creator’s life when the world stops behaving like clay and starts behaving like a witness. In the beginning, every word feels like command. Every vision, a quiet suggestion to the fabric of existence. You speak, and reality…
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Nothing— Not the kind that means absence, but the kind that trembles with everything that has not yet chosen a shape. A silence so full it feels like the inhale before a universe decides whether or not it wants to be born. I wait for the thought to arrive, but the waiting feels strange now.…
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Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil—that’s what someone once said, wasn’t it?But who decides which is which?The whisper between light and shadowis thinner than breath,and yet the whole world trembles on it. A chance encounter—not with what is,but with what we believe it to be.Every thought a vibration,every word a stone dropped…
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Deep in the forest, the shadows still sing. The branches hold whispers of lives left undone, yet you step inside with the ease of someone who has shed their chains. At the shore, yesterday’s troubles dissolve into laughter and echoes of family voices. We pretend, just for a moment, that there is no more work,…
