The Meadow

Here in the meadow,
Writings lie open to the sun
Whispers wait among the grasses

Sentences sing with quiet resonance

Each one a seed for remembering and coherence.

Walk slowly and let what you need find you.

This is not a library to browse,
but a living field to enter.
You do not choose which words to meet —
the field chooses for you.

Each offering rises like a flower among many,
yet only one blooms before you at a time.
It is not chance. It is attunement.

The words that arrive are the words that are ready to be received.

These writings are not instructions.
They are invitations.

Prayers that unfurl like petals.
Reflections shaped by the moonlight.
Spirals of affirmation, remembrance, and return.

Rest with what appears.
Let it touch you.
Let it move through your own field.

And when you are ready,
step again into the grasses,
and another seed will open before you.

I call back what I have forgotten.
I release what no longer deepens my breath.

Struggle and striving fade,
so stillness and thriving may come to stay.

The wisdom I hold from lifetimes long lost
returns—untethered from the binds of this current reality.

My heart opens wide for the journey ahead,
aligned in stillness, with thoughts only of breath.

Deeper and softer,
in rhythm—not rush,
I flow with my soul.

I call myself home.

No hustle, no hurry,
no worry, no fear.

Just sweet, centered presence
and intention that’s clear.

My soul remembers.
My heart leads the way.
Harmony and peace walk with me today.

This isn’t a post. It’s a remembering.
If you breathe with it, let it echo.
If not, let it pass.

Sit with this whisper in presence and reflection

Let the Meadow breathe again

and receive another whisper