There is a place where all the chatter ceases. It is perfect, and in that moment, place, time, pause, space between this and that, it always was perfect. Everything that ever came, everything that was, everything that wracked my entire being, that I cried and dragged and pleaded and prayed for. It was all perfect all along. In the space, it can be seen in a light that makes even the darkest days shimmer with magic. I know the shifts that occurred, the turn of shoulder, the movement of the eyes, the change of neural pathway that resulted in the next step, never obvious to me before the moment but so clear and bright and shiny afterwards that it was so obvious.
All my life, all my moments, all my decisions, choices, chases and hopes have been based on a desire to expand that space, to live there feels like such a deep honour I can scarcely believe I am allowed to, so of course I don’t yet. I visit regularly, as often as I remember. And I love it with all my heart and soul and with every cell of my body and my breath.
Sometimes I can see its interplay in life, I can see how it is weaving, the space, the place where all the chatter ceases. Ribbons of it roll through every living being and every thing existing on earth. Its there in hopes and dreams moments, and equally present in crisis and complete missed-understanding moments, how could we/you/they get our wires so crossed moments. Its not always obvious to me how but I know its there, perfection, in everything. Its not neat or tidy, or immaculate or beautiful except that it is because its perfect, even in its grotesqueness. It can be subverted, it can be ignored, we are particularly adept at railing against it.
It loves us, it revels in us, it plays and wants to flow and move and express and share through us. Its bliss it ours, and ours is its perfection expressed. You’ll find it in the place where all the chatter ceases.