“What a liberation to realize,” writes Eckhart Tolle, “that the ‘voice in my head’ is not who I am.”

If not the voice, who then my loves? Are we that who stands in humbled appreciation? The observer of all that we ‘are’?

Would then, the voice serve as a manifestation – nothing more and nothing less? A conjuring of self within this illusion of experience?

We stand before the oak, in awe – though, how often do we consider the truth of it’s source? From seedling these mighty limbs are born; just as ‘we’ from these vestiges of mind.

Within her arms, even the hunted find shelter. And the weary traveler, hope within its shadows.

Oh, my darlings – can’t you see? You are the acorn, and you are the tree.

In peace…

Namaste ❤