In solitude, amongst the silent open spaces—walking the settled sands beside the ebbing sea, next to the late springtime river, as life explodes from awakening flora—we can hear the questions, and we can distill the answers; life is perpetual (perceptual) change and flowing communication.
In these mystic, magic places, as the earth’s energy faithfully pushes up and out, around and through—no matter how often we cut it back, or try to control it—we connect with the meanings and reasonings, the tapestried threads and how they’re woven—and how we’ve played a part in every aspect of it.
And if we’re open to it, a clarity is attainable, always just there, under the skin. It dares us to act and make practicable our plots and planning, our desires and understanding. It drops us squarely back into the herenow, and there’s no way to escape our own, perfect, truth. There is only this naked vulnerability and one more chance to step forward in earnest, to claim our birthright.
No judgements, no schedule, no frame of time at all.
Presence comes at no cost nor expense of resource. It, with authenticity, triangulates with Love to complete the moment.
Solitude is a tempering force. Loneliness is a mental construct. Yet, it can serve us in the capacity of deeper self-knowing and personal discovery. Life holds nothing back, and will move at whatever pace we’re ready to go, whenever we dive in, however we choose to engage.