There are times when one is at the center of a moment she feels as far away from established reality as the moon is from our oceans. In these solitary times there is a quiet. Yet the silence is deafening rather than comforting and embracing. There is a distortion of which tides have shifted and the shores don’t feel the same as they once had. The way in which the water touches land; no longer familiar and somehow turbulent and unkind.
The depth of these waters somehow darker as the substance within creates a murky somewhat hazy distortion which disrupts the clarity of foresight and understanding. Existing in this arena is vastly different than the light shows of previous crystalline cerulean seas. No longer warmed by the radiance of light, there is a coolness that falls within the center of ones bones which drowns the very marrow of rejuvenation.
In these moments there is a recession into comprehension that is necessary for the revitalization of ones sense of being and ultimate understanding of the primal essence of being. This solitude is that of a hermit within a cave of serenity far from the world pondering the existence of a way of being and other ways of knowing.
To return one must relinquish oneself and ones physicality to the knowingness of nothing. In this moment, one begins to return. And on that journey back through those nano seconds, one has been changed by the tumultuous rumbling of the cresting waves of yet another spiritual journey.