Words are so empty sometimes. They lack strength. They are so much blah blah blah. Sounds with no meaning and no ability to create connection. They cannot hold up the feelings I feel, of awe, of being so struck that I am stilled.
I would/could actually be more still if I was searching less for words to describe the innermost. They fail me, and in searching, I fail to feel the fullness of feeling. Words are a hole in the vessel that contains holy water, pouring out what should be contained in sacredness.
I want so much for everyone to see and touch the sacred, but I cannot do it for them, for you. I am losing sight, or perhaps afraid to be alone with it, to not know how to hold the precious. My sacred is for me. Your sacred will find you. In sharing, I will lose the path, and the lesson. It is not even sharing, it is a naive and empty generosity, perhaps an ego-filled one - to share what is not mine, to try to give away what I am still learning to receive.
I would/could actually be more still if I was searching less for words to describe the innermost. They fail me, and in searching, I fail to feel the fullness of feeling. Words are a hole in the vessel that contains holy water, pouring out what should be contained in sacredness.
I want so much for everyone to see and touch the sacred, but I cannot do it for them, for you. I am losing sight, or perhaps afraid to be alone with it, to not know how to hold the precious. My sacred is for me. Your sacred will find you. In sharing, I will lose the path, and the lesson. It is not even sharing, it is a naive and empty generosity, perhaps an ego-filled one - to share what is not mine, to try to give away what I am still learning to receive.
