There is a return, a resourcing available to each of us—that wondrous expanse who’s manifestation we see only in a subtle, overwhelming glimpse. It speaks in tongues of the ancients and bears curious beasts only known in children’s dreams.
From structures held above the clouds, these energetic deities cast their enchantments pouring forth through our cellular flesh. We may seek reason—the chosen God of Man—to shed light upon this journey, but alas, true understanding fails to come when looking for evidence through only two eyes. Nor is it the third that can behold such subtlety—luminescence only blinking in subatomic space as atoms collide chaotically with one another.
This quality of sight and attainment comes only through the intelligence of our body cast so downward in the hierarchy of celebrated knowledge.
The Soma never sleeps and never ceases offering it’s vast wisdom, though it does not speak the King’s. It whispers in faint elemental gestures basking in the expressive expanse of sensations who’s nuances we have yet to name.
So much of our cultural motion takes us decidedly away from this incredible wisdom, choosing instead to favor the more explicit performance of a mind attempting only to keep up with the pacing, depth, and incredible presence of the awakened soma.
It is only those who choose and actively train to listen, who can truly hear the depth that speaks through them in every moment and invites a reckoning of being that illustrates a world so vast, our minds fall silent in its shadow.
It is here, in the silencing of our overactive minds, that we can begin to hear our own truth.