There lives in Life a Waterfall of words made from the eternal truths and this wonderfulness lives also in me. So when I touch my pen to the empty page I find to say what I had forgotten I could say. Suddenly nothing needs mending. I am gifted with a language I can share. Here.

***

Being at present a human, I am aided by pens and paper to engage with my true self. I’ve learned not to worry about this way of doing things and I’ve learned to be thankful for it. To be honest, it always takes me a while to use them each day after time spent in Time.

Magically, my pen and paper know all about this hidden treasure in my being and in their impish ways keep drawing me to use them to find it. They occupy my room, they become the clutter that needs ordering, they get lost and must be looked for—the pen, especially. I encounter them all day long as little nuisances until I give in and begin to …

write.

And when I do, I’m Home.

The post Those little objects in my room first appeared on Arlene Graston.

I am an invisible Being. I was not born, I dream. I pretend I am visible and you pretend to see me. We laugh. You are invisible, too, and yet, wonderfully, we are both eternally real.

In this quiet truthful moment a healing has taken place. We have found a pause out of time and space and touched the effortless within us. It will remain and nurture us as we return to “be” the little child who came to play in a world of building blocks and the never-here-tomorrows.

Come back anytime, the Quiet Pause is always waiting.

The post Something remembered first appeared on Arlene Graston.

I have a secret life beyond these five senses.

There is, right here, the Goodness that can only be known by knowing it. It brings the crisp conviction of what is Everlasting to the moment that wants to come and go. While it fills my human world with the scent I can smell, the whisper I can hear, the warmth I touch and wear, infinity is keeping my heart pure and joyful and alive.

Yes, there lives a deeper life in me that cannot be lived other than by my trust in what I am. My self is eternal. Each morning, I walk through a dream scrim to touch a world of disguises, and oh so playfully, do I pretend all kinds of things while I’m there.

That is why I came as a little child … to not forget my happy nature.

The post Innocence first appeared on Arlene Graston.

When comes a new day a page appears to write upon, a page free from what has been.

When comes a new day I come with it for I am its light.

I create, I remind myself, so that Life can fill in the blanks. My ink stains don’t lie. They did not create themselves. They were left by something that was always here. Yet, something new and true and more than merely mine.

The post In the name of the Sun first appeared on Arlene Graston.

Can it be that I need not ask so many questions? Can it be that the answer is my Gentle mind that knows the silent invisible? I think without words. I understand untaught. I do this because I am not merely human..

Even in a dream where I appear to be.

The post Even in a dream … first appeared on Arlene Graston.

I listen, to remember there is something to remember.

I listen, to receive my life.

The post The Only Source first appeared on Arlene Graston.

And I know why this is true. You are the part of me not locked up in a little box. You are the one whose breath takes in the eternal, the infinite, the marvelousness of being.

And not anything else. So it doesn’t matter, does it, about all those flitting pictures picturing that “anything else.” No, it matters not at all.

My new swirly design is lovely. I like where it took me and I like how it worked along with me. We were doing it together, I could feel it, I could see it unfold.

(Was that you drawing with me?)

The word I’ve been thinking of for you lately is Presence. I’m not the only one that uses that word for you. But today, for the first time, I asked you about you, in order to better define you for myself because a name for you separates us. I know you little realize how much of you I have forgotten since you feel I am still there with you. Oh, how much of you has become blurred and blurry having been superimposed with so much of that “anything else” world.

We are thinkers you and I. What I need, is to understand how you think. Do you know what I mean? I do a lot of thinking, and all around me I am aware of more than my own thinking and it’s all only a big cloud of confusion that engulfs and weighs me down. I can’t hear what is real, I don’t remember what is true. I’m just not home in gentle peace and quiet joy. Peace. You know, your peace. I hear too much noise. Coming from me. And them. I just want to be home. In myself. A place I strangely call a Presence when you are only what I am, after all.

The post Home first appeared on Arlene Graston.

You know to embark on the day with simplicity. You see and hear and touch and meet: the leaf tenderly pressed in a book, the baby’s first shoes, the dawn. These are the special whispered moments unique to this Earth experience. They touch your true heart for they come to you as gifts of your spirit. In recognizing them for what they are you make the world soft and kind. This is you as a human. Live her. Enjoy her. Be her. No longer look over your shoulder at what others do, or if they approve.

A promise kept is the world you create with the very little garden growing in the corner of your room while the candle’s steady flame illuminates the playful clay figures dancing on a nearby shelf. Your childlike world is poetry for your Soul is a Poem in action and movement and intent.

(Are you coming into view for yourself?) Use your own perception, not the words from others to bring reality to you. You want more than words. You want what needs no words. You want your peaceful, simple feeling self that appears to have no other purpose but to join you in soulful attendance to what is of you … invisible.

Oh, how fine is your Soul. How refined in its perception of the ineffable and makes you one with it. You have a secret self that makes you in love with being alive. A self that helps you build from eternal strands a human life that breathes wonder in the shadowy corners made of “humble” treasures. You will know yourself when you see that which is the softest thing any living thing ever is.

Be in the world only from your own light. For this you came.

The post The Sacred Ordinary first appeared on Arlene Graston.

The cloud bends low. Its outer edges form a whisper on the earth grazing the blades of grass that seem to be reaching up to it. Human that I am while watching this fragile moment in time, has me witnessing something that deeply stirs my soul and brings my heart to courage.

I close my eyes. I open them again. I want to believe what I have just seen. I want to believe that the cloud and the grass know one another, and knowing, care. This hope heals my loneliness, warms my cold isolation.

I knew about life before I came. I’ve been feeling quite alone and apart in a brilliantly colored prison, doomed to a world view that is meaningless—I’ve read the books and heard the sermons. They merely trapped in my soul and my imagination.

I sit on the side of the hill, a few little steps from an encounter that removes me from the ordinary of an illusion I will never believe in. I come from where my innocence is assured, my presence met with tenderness. The nature of my nature will never change. There is power even here that will never waver. Life has a loving solid heart. I know I have one too. I breathe and I recover my courage. I find my Grace in oneness.

A tear forms in my eye and I let it fall to cool the flush in my cheek. Soundlessly, the cloud, with a gesture that is not a gesture, dries my tear and brings me the Empty Calm I’ve been missing. I need no longer think, for the wonder of it all. Yet I can hear what does not need to be said. I had only forgotten.

Happily, my magic Pen has not. It always knows what to tell me about reality to share in a magic website designed to speak of these simple things.

The post A Few Little Steps first appeared on Arlene Graston.

It was a stillness that had never gone away though I had believed it had. Nothing of myself can leave me. Now I know what is thought and felt in this world. There are strange occurrences that bring grief and emptiness, all built from lies. I can only be imagining such a strange reality. I need not let this continue to concern me. I need not despair of it all happening to me as I thought it had happened.

It hadn’t.

It was now morning. And what stood before me was the empty page waiting to be filled from the depth of my stillness. Yes, the one Stillness that dreams yet soars to heights of freedom for remaining what it is. And it lives only within mornings that bring fresh, open pages to show the eternal Originality. Life is a constant morning. A constant Renewal renewing itself. A constant letting go. A constant finding.

Coming and going is what takes place. And within all that twirl of life is the constancy of the Constant Presence that delights in its constant twirling of self. This is the nature I am given. I have no other. Life and I live like this, as one, needing no explanation to confirm aliveness.

I am awake within the Dawn that empowers me.

The post The Stillness never explains first appeared on Arlene Graston.