We are all travelers here, walking paths both worn and wild, sculpted by the choices we’ve made and the ones still waiting to be made. The world, in all its beauty and chaos, is a mirror — reflecting back the shadows and light we’ve yet to fully understand. Each step forward is both a revelation and a riddle, a call to remember something ancient and untold within us, a dance between what is and what could be. To journey is to become the question and the answer, to step into the unknown and claim it as our own.
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It is the plight of the wayshowers to battle the winds of time and clear the path for those who follow. There are no victims here; we choose our adventure in every breath, between every heartbeat. When we embraced the skills and senses of the uncommon and elevated, we invited the necessary process of training and refinement. We all have our strengths, and we all carry latent abilities — understandings that will find their time, their place, and their worldly purpose. The cycles and spirals of this dance will ensure it.
We may choose accidents or circumstances, the unexpected or the methodical. It doesn’t matter. Each of us carries a brilliance within, a soul’s light that fits intuitively, perfectly, always. The machines of this world have pounded it down, drumming relentlessly, but we, too, had a hand in their design. We are rhythm masters, employing all things as reasons and rudiments to explore in front of and behind the veil.
We may look at the darker ages as stumbling stones we all tripped over, injured by. Yet, if we consider the vastness of forever, those ages — those moments — occurred not only overnight but in less than the blink of an eye, even a fraction of that.
We seem content to accept the plodding pace of history, as it’s been recorded, taking to heart what is merely superficial. This instills a sense of doldrum, a melancholy weighed down by neverendingness, by the illusion of time’s fatigue.
But we forget: our scale and reality allow for a pull to dark extremes — only to prepare us for a massive shift to the opposite. As we graduate from the lessons of our own design and manifestation, we come to see how all of it has served us. All of it.
We can expend much energy blaming the iniquity of the tripping stones, and the fools who’ve fallen in the same way for countless generations. Our pain needs a drum to beat, and we will continue looking “out there” for enemies, for prophecies. But until we welcome it home — until we have the grace to embrace our fragments and dislocated selves — we remain unwhole, wanting, shaken, unsafe, defensive, incomplete.
We are here now, in this moment, to recapitulate and amend the story. Everywhere, there is evidence of the shift — an acceleration into lightness, harmony, as the elastic coils pull us from the depths of the extinct into the extant spirit.
Time is irrelevant, as is its impatience, the literal fatigue it imposes upon us. This has always been a place of feeling, where love knows no bounds.
Remember?
Solvitur ambulando