Als je héél stil bent...

When you are very silent...

Gently foaming waves rolled over the wet sand and nearly touched my toes.
Twin toes.  I loved my two pairs of twin toes.  One pair on each foot.
They felt like a wink from the Creator, who I think at the time would have liked to give me a little oddity, something that should always make me smile.  Something just for me.
I curled my toes in the sand for a moment and continued my walk along the water. 
It was evening.
The sun slowly began to shine rosier.
The wind had died down a bit, and the seasoned sunbathers had already left the beach like golden brown buns. 
Plenty of room to let go of my gaze in this way on the wide suds.
As far as my eyes could reach.
The see whispered…
I believe that our soul can see the words in it, while as humans we are at the mercy of the poetry of the moment.
I became quiet.
Quiet by the sea.
Silent for the sea.
Quiet for the water.
We are surrounded by so many forces that constantly tell us stories, give us clues…
That’s how I always experienced it as a child.
Everything whispers.
In one of his books, Paulo Coehlo refers to it as “the rustling of the universe”.
Let’s be honest: it’s an art these days to be quiet so we can hear this rustling…
And then… maybe our earthly ears don’t hear what is being said in a language we know.
But on another subtle level, our cells are being touched, played like the strings of a lute.
Being quiet here is different from listening.
It goes beyond that.
This being silent is about being “open” and “empty” like a white sheet of paper.
Open to a field of vibration.
The field in which the cosmos breathes.
And when we find that silence, we can also breathe gently with it, flowing along…
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