New Mexico has been extra beautiful lately, it seems. A waking dream.
Do you feel as if each day you grow more sensitive, more receptive, merging more with the world? With what is seen and what is not.
Every day, deeper.
It’s something like the feeling upon the fingertip when a light touch on water creates a ripple, one form so barely grazing another—yet the two come together—connecting, and affecting.
The energy is there right on the other side of the material, growing until it seems it will have weight, and form. Any second, in the next moment, will I hold flowers in my once empty hands, or a bird? Do I almost touch the face of someone I have heard for a very long time?
Right there on the other side.
Hands pressed on a looking glass.
Fingers, once a universe apart, are only a microscopic distance now from connecting, creating a ripple anew.
Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.
Yes. Like that.