There is only faith. I haven’t seen beyond to that which rests on the other side. I remain here in the present. It is the time to water, a practice as close to hand as it is my heart, the source of what I know. All is well. That is the path of manifestation, knowing that the course—slow or quick, up or down, steady or precarious—is the one of our walking. We walk still to remain unshaken; a tree rooted firmly in the earth, small and fragile until the time comes when all gazes upon its magnanimous nature of being.
There is only faith.
We must allow it to sustain us, a raft that takes us into the unknown and across a sea to the side where the birthing happens. How else do we travel when we must go? There is no remaining in the sameness of all the days before. There is no tying a rope around our ankles and sitting in the seat of fear. We rise like the sun and move like a breeze in-flow with life’s current to the side where the Yes awaits.
There are open doors in which to enter. Yet we must do our part inside the practice of trusting that life is capable, and that it desires to meet us there on the road. Even when day turns to night and earie sounds catch us off guard causing us to question the way, we turn toward our faith. It reminds us that we are held, sustained and carried, and that each step inside the unknown leads us to that which is to be known.
Until the time of its being, we wake and move inside the energy of light. We keep steady our thoughts and attention on life’s vastness, and how supreme the unknown. Nothing is missing. All is available and arrives before the need. We need only to cultivate our intentions and allow life to manifest the creation. We need only to practice our faith.