The language not understandable.

The language not understandable.

It seems our homes’ existence and substance is built upon that which we can’t yet and possibly never will be able to discern and speak of ourselves. Not inside the limitations of the spoken word at least.

This is the realm where everything exists in the same instance in all locations at the same time. Where, when observed, when just the intention to look, changes that being viewed. Where everything solid is fluid at the same time.

Trying to resolve the understanding using the logical mind just fails. For in using the logical mind is the same as trying to hold water in a sieve. The sieve just isn’t designed to hold water.

But this world, this unsubstanced substance realm finds a way of speaking to us in spite of all. For this material world would not exist without the other, holding it up. There is connection apparent when we have eyes to see.

The messages are slight, sometimes there for just a moment and then gone as if never were at all.

To hear them, the noise of the world must be contained. Quarantined, controlled. Yes still there but now held aside, not the mainstream of Life but now only an aspect of Life.

The messages speak of change, of pause, of times to go, to move on, of caring and being there for each other. Of respect and Love. Never will they be of anger, hate or destruction.

The language used is varied.

Aspects perhaps in the symbol’s used in ancient times. Those things modern science has no answer for. Their secrets will therefore remain.

Clues can be found in the arts of mathematics. But just as all other aspects of life ebb and flow, so does that of mathematic expression. Endlessly deep, for ever revealing more.

In the myths and legends that try to draw close to that which can’t be expressed. Which fall so short in the messages weaved into their fabric. The legends of the Philosophers Stone and the Elixir of Life, tomind come.

But where then do I find this unspeakable language?

The ancients used the call them omens. This word wasn’t about good or bad. It was about signs and messages. In some ways the”putting out of a fleece” or the “setting of a fleece” in biblical terms is a way of controlling or seeking specific answers from the signs. Maktub.

If we are paying enough attention, with the world turned off enough to see, then these messages come rushing towards us. The art of remaining” just so”, enough to see them all, the challenge.

Your inner self, your interpreter, that which is beyond language, your guide. To go this way or that or perhaps just to stop, yours to discern. For each individual’s path is completely different than that of the neighbours.

Perhaps the omen that spoke to you yesterday will not do so today, so attunement is vital. Change the only thing constant, be ready.

In this world, breath is taken away. Rich a word not close to the experience of this thing called Life.

Much work required, brave enough to lose everything for the slightest glimpse of that beyond.

There is a language, unspeakable, steadfast in its waiting to converse with you, when you turn towards the path that is the why of you being in this place.

May the resonance of it all, pick you up and sweep you away.

May those questions that come back to you all time, arrive in such a away for you tomorrow, that you’ll start to seek out your answers.

For these are the hallways of true Life and Death. Where we begin the journey of being inside our Universe in the way it was designed to be.


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