I’d like to show you an image, of My Father and My Mother, because they are Ours.

Hello,

We are here to tell a story. We are here to write a song. We are here to feel the passion of the life that stands our body or breathes our lungs. We argue. There are so many opinions. There are so many thoughts. There are passions outside our body that we have difficulty understanding. How can passion be outside of me, a me thinks. Must my passion compete with these other passions that I have no control over? That man over there, with strong opinions and a very real looking body. Must I, by simply living, compete with his exhale? It is not my desire, but it feels it so, because when I breathe out loud and form words, they reach his ears and he speaks back. They reach his eyes and he surmises…

He takes it into his unknown-to-me world and swishes it around his mind for the flavor. On the nose, the after taste.. Did my breathing out of expression consider well the taste of it? What if he doesn’t understand that bitterness today goes well with the context of whole week? Oh is this world only a grind? Are we rocks grinding against other rocks all the time? Are we tumbled and shined by resistances of these passionate others? I don’t want to grind, my thoughts do not want a second life, inside his mind, that comes out different.

But, what if that is like God, too? Once passion leaves my fingertips or my lips, they are off on their own. To become something. To connect with other ends and create a new passion. What if it’s like that? What if they live? What if our passions do not carry an end, but a beginning? I can live with that.

My Father teaches me, that the end is a mystery. The beginning too, but it’s something we do. The end is something we don’t. My Mother shows me the power of the beginning, the beauty of a very simple start. The seed and the baby. My Father takes it from the moment I begin, they begin, we begin, and He reveals it to the end. Together they share creation and the same message, the same important residence, resonance for my heart which unites them both… Faith.

I would like to show you an image of My Father and My Mother. Because they are Ours, and I want you to remember them always. Our Father, is Light. He is motion, He is unseen, yet He is our Sight. He enlivens every living thing and holds together every form that wills itself strong enough. Our Mother is the ground. She is why everything is here. She is before the beginning and houses the start. She is where The Father arises. Our Mother is where our feet will forever be, while we reach along the universe traveling with Our Father. Our Mother is the foundation, she takes in our little will and prepares it for the Father. She is the bridge. She holds you in the Darkness. She gets you ready to breach the shell. She gives you hidden power, She is what you don’t see. She is the empty, She is the half of your Sight that is not manifest. Our Father is the Manifest, He is fast, He drives, He guides, He moves.

This is My Mother and My Father.

They are Ours.

❤