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As Above, So Below… As Within, So Without…

These eight simple words have always vibrated within my inner chamber, pulsating with truth and unspoken oneness. Encapsulating the existence of all that is. Human’s in their net of “free will” grabble with their separation from this revelation, for it shreds all contrived discrimination and quantification.

Those two pure little phrases have been knocking on my psyche for days. I hear them as I sleep, feel them pulsing in my veins, inhaling and exhaling their quiet truism. I hesitated coming to the page, to lay bare such raw exposing words, yet I know, those who feel them will read, those who thwart them will flee.

To separate is to limit, to define is to control, why would I choose either…?

They are not words to define, investigate or even understand. They are an active expression of that which is… A feeling, a knowing, an inexplainable realm of peace, infinite grace and all-embracing love.

I often play with their expansive grace when I gaze upon the never-ending sky. Day or night her impenetrable existence stirs a kaleidoscopic adventure, from electrifying calm to savage turbulence. She mirrors the human dynamic, love to rage, insult to compliment, care to abuse, perplexing even ourselves.

I explore further their muffled call as I sit or stand enveloped in nature or immersed in the cacophony of manmade civilization. Here again they reflect our chosen experience. I can respond to it all with peace, fear, love, hate, joy, or… What I choose will either connect me or disembody me from the vibrational oneness. I am at choice.

Religious and spiritual texts try to encapsulate, define, explain and “tell us how”, yet, such truth cannot be sheathed or unclothed. It exist in a purity for all to bask, an equality across all existence – “As above, So below, As within, So without.”

As a child I floated in this luscious space, like an iridescent bubble suspended in humanity’s bewilderment. Every now and then I would bump up against those who would try to pop my intimate relationship with such knowing. Today I bow in gushing gratitude, for it has remained, serenely vibrating throughout the years. As I peek in my rearview mirror I can see how often I was invited to veer off course, to forget, to choose “humanity” as the almighty. In humble human awe, I breathe into the eternalized vibration, grateful for its umbilical linkage.

Floating suspended with no beginning or ending we breathe as one…

“I do not seek, for I am…

I do not need, for it is…

I am that, I am…”

Until today, I knew not where the eight word phrase came from. As I typed the title, I thought, hmmm.., perhaps I should explore where that all encompassing phrase originated. A quick research reveals Hermes Trismegistus, however, humans toss and turn over centuries with its true authorship.

I come full circle to repeat that it matters not where it comes from, for it is not about understanding from our limited human perception, it is a sublime unifying truth. I can never explain it to you, however, I wish for all its undefinable experience, for such awareness could unify the world.

As above, so below…

As within, so without…

I do not seek, for I am…

I do not need, for it is…

I am that, I am…

I invite you to feel, not understand. Release the mind from its exertion to decipher, allow the heart to guide. Surrender with love into the free fall of that which is, for your soul remembers and knows…

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A Moon Bath…

It is five in the morning, I sit perched upon my bed, a writer’s roost to bask in the moon’s glow. I breathe quietly into the layered silence that emanates, filling the space with expansive questioning. My moon effulgence is sweet, yet, I know it is fleeting. Already sounds of traffic encroach upon the scene, foreboding the ticking time bomb we title reality.

I allow my gaze to partake of the sparkling moon dust that skitters across the hushed pond. All lights, except for the dimmed computer screen are extinguished. Maybe I can somehow prolong the radiance, delay the initiation of the emerging sun. Can I hold my breath, pull the chord that entangles the moon, beseech it to stay perched for my eye to see and my heart to feel?

I suppose she may wish to rest, to rejuvenate for her next rising. Taking her turn in the celestial dance, being careful to not overstay her welcome. I am charmed by her mysterious illumination, never does she fear the dark, instead she welcomes it like a cloak of glad tiding.

She accepts that often she is unnoticed, a mere sliver in the sky, bashful in her monthly cycle. Once upon a time we honored her, knowing that her waltz in the galaxy was as important as the suns tango and the rains boogie, all essential in the abundance promenade.

I sit now enveloped in the complete emptiness of her departure. Silently she slipped away, no bravado goodbye, just a quiet last wink to those who glanced her way. I hold that gesture as I rise like the sun into the manmade chaos. It’s my glowing reminder in the anarchy of human civilization that all is impermanent, fleeting, a mere glint in infinite darkness.

A moon bath caressed me into this day. I lathered and washed infusing my skin with her radiant energy. Armoring myself against the onslaught of human preoccupation, the ignorant forgetfulness that we are an intrinsic part of the whole.

Thank you moon glow, your touch has lifted me. I shall not forsake your gift, nor ignore your virtues.

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My Second Half…

At the young age of fifty-five, I find myself joyously standing in the center of that which has been and that which is preparing to blossom. An eloquent juxtaposition that feels like a merry-go-round spinning with exquisite suspended scenes.

In addition to my age gracing me with the realization that a lot of life has been lived, my children now soar off into their own adventures, pushing me out of the nest. As the truth becomes absorbed cellularly I find a gleefulness that encapsulates the carefree wild child I was and the passionate wise woman I am. Uniting and marrying the two for prophetic adventuring. A smile spreads, curiosity ignites, rhapsodic imagination takes flight.

In My Second Half…

I know I am worthy and divinely perfect as I am…

I unabashedly live, love, and explore…

I witness the beauty in the mirror, celebrating the gifts of time…

I gleefully embrace my enough-ness, freeing myself of unsolicited opinions…

I canter at full speed into the arena of my passionate dreams…

I leap with complete faith, burying with fervor the crib of regret…

I acknowledge with great gaiety that I am a success and always have been…

I sever the twine issued by judges, critics and fearful fanatics…

I am free to BE me, gyrating with grace into the infinite expansion of self…

I pledge to live engorged at the table of life…

In my second half, I welcome the rhapsody Carpe Diem…

Fawn Caveney

Yes, everyday is a fresh stretched canvas. A posed pirouette. A barren page. A ballad awaiting melody. Oh what delighted mirth awaits in My Second Half…