Don’t look for me in holy books or so-called holy people.
That’s not where you’ll find ME.
Don’t hurriedly hunt me in secret places, special buildings, strings of beads, ancient scripts, in potions or in star alignments.
Look at the fire coloured sun, rising and setting without you having to do a thing;
See the butterfly, the migrating birds pulsing to a vibration of pure precision;
Listen to the waves crashing, a choir singing, the cry of a newborn baby;
Smell the fresh earth after a thunderstorm;
Feel the high of a meditation, the warmth of a touch, the tears that run when the soft smell of a deceased loved one wafts through your home;
Tune in, and you’re getting close.
Don’t chase after me in holy water, special foods or men who claim to “know”.
I’m more likely to be in the eyes of your lover, a generous stranger, a homeless man;
I’m more likely to be the laughter of children, the gentle push of a teacher, your gran’s dusty kitchen floor;
I’m more likely to be in the tingle of strawberries, the soft rain playing jazzy tunes on your rooftop;
That’s more my style.
For I am GOD, my child,
The creator, narrator, the connector of the dots.
Foremost an artist! Second to none.
All light comes from me, and all light flows through you.
How will you know when you’ve found ME?
Ah, that’s the easy part: You’ll just know!
I designed you that way.
© Aluta continua, as they say. A Heart Full of Stories, 2017
It seems there were some gremlins in yesterday’s post, trying to scramble text and give me more grey air. Luckily, we’ve now sorted them out.