You are sitting right at the center of your comfort zone. There are of course quite some little things nagging you, left and right. Else you’d be flying above clouds of heavens yet to be acknowledged.
A voice is telling you not to look down, not even to look around, just point up, because nothing down, nor around, would make much of a difference.
Good for you. Listen to that voice.
You’ve been roving the steppes and the deserts for decades. Seeing that common ignorance is worth of more compassion than anything around. Hearing that languages –broken– are like weapons between the jaws of the wicked.
A voice, or a vision, tells you, or rather shows you, that empathy is a shield, that giving credit alleviates the wounds of all those arrows –like in words of men, witless at best.
Interpreting realities, compiling facts and fantasies, assessing trends and rumors, revel in playing this game, taking care with the levels, the lives, the booby traps.
Ministering the flocks, year in, year out, all you wish is to follow your call, your vocation. Perhaps this had been written in the code of your heart even before you’ve been born.
The soul of Adamkind is like the sea, longing for a lighthouse –where she can port and recover from the scars and hurricanes of everyday.
You’ve learned how insidious the worn of idle becomes, everynight. This is why you wear the helmet –wherein you feel connected to an eternity that feeds your traditions. Day in, day out.
When I’ve started to write this short post, I had no idea how to close it. What I knew was only how to begin it. The Voice, ya know.
Stopping for a break, went to spend some Youtube time where I watched all sorts of mundane stuff, from triangle lights in the skies of Ireland to the pink panties of a demure lady who sings to stay young (and it works, apparently), from the cast of ‘The Death of Stalin’ commenting, about the tragic comedy of the late century, to this:
Tesla Technology Has Been Revived
Is there a geometry to that voice within?