There are no words in Oneness
Words create two
When I speak
I speak to God
Who else is there?
An elegant journal was gifted to me by a friend who didn’t know that I no longer kept a journal, that indeed, all my journals spanning decades had been offered to the fire in a great conflagration of liberation. So the gifted journal sat, waiting patiently, until one day I picked it up and wrote a prayer in it. I’m not really a praying person, or rather I am, but not in the traditional religious sense. Yet the journal invited sacred dialogue, so I wrote a prayer and waited. I don’t remember how I knew what to do next, but the pen found its way to my non-dominant left hand, and a response to the prayer was written.
By whom? I do not know. I suppose by the one to whom the prayer was prayed. And who was that? Again, I do not know. I prayed when my need spoke to the Universe, which in my prayers I addressed by various names. The name matters not. My prayers were answered from that place within me that is beyond me, beyond names.
Thus began a practice that continued for years. After writing a prayer I listened, with the pen in my left hand, and wrote the words I heard. The hearing and the writing occurred simultaneously, without time to consider or edit before the words were on the page. Sometimes I was surprised by the content of the answers, or by the way in which they were phrased. I didn’t understand it, but I learned to trust the process, to receive with humble gratitude the encouragement, correction, assurance that was given with such unfailing, exquisite love.
And then, with one last response, the practice ended. At first perplexed and a little saddened, I came to understand that there was no longer a need to separate from Oneness to have a sacred dialogue. The prayers and responses merged into wordless guidance, ever present and available.
After keeping these writings private all these years, I now feel led to share some of them. This is a different kind of writing than what I’ve published in the past. Here is one example so that you get a sense of the practice. The prayer is followed by the response in italics. I hope there is something in the message that resonates with you.
62 – Listen Well to Silence
The new year opens pure
As the snow falls outside my window
No footprints yet disturb its peace
Quiet and still
It waits
As I wait
Listening for you
Fill me as you will
I follow willingly
In joy
And humble gratitude
Child of winter
Born in darkness
Listen well to silence
Hear the crystal singing of your soul
The song of home calls all to come
All movement is returning
Let it be
If this is meaningful to you, please let me know. I will share some more on the blog. I’m compiling these in a book I hope will be published in the next year.
Note: I used the non-dominant hand writing technique in many contexts, not just with the prayers and responses. I am happy to discuss this more in another post if there is interest.
You burned your lifetime of journals? Goodness, what a powerful act. Mine have dragged with me from state to state, increasing in size, a couple dozen boxes gathering dust in storage. I cling to the idea that I’ll need them to write about the “important stuff” when I get old and have the time. But by then it might all be meaningless to me….wouldn’t that be a blessing! I applaud that you have found a new way of writing.
I did! I spent some time reading through all of them, and then burned them.
When I was a young adult, the journals I kept as a teen were lost in a car break in. That was devastating to me, the thought that some stranger was reading my most personal thoughts. That experience partly motivated me to burn the journals I kept through the years as an adult. I didn’t want anyone else to read them.
Besides that, and perhaps more important, I wanted to let the past go. I felt weighed down from carrying all that past with me. It really was liberating to read the journals one last time and then release them, with all their stories, in a cleansing, purifying fire. I’ve never regretted it.
Thanks for your words of encouragement, Deborah.
“Child of winter, born in darkness, listen well to silence.”
In silence, Galen, I hear the Lord speak in gentleness and in love. I would not trade those moments, so precious, for anything in the world.
Born on March 1st, I am a literal child of winter, born in darkness. But God has never abandoned me, nor will He abandon you.
Blessings!
Like you, Martha, I am also literally a child of winter — born in January. To me, the darkness is not a place of abandonment, but a place of mystery, a place of unlimited possibility. Thanks for commenting.
I love the way you questioned and then got your answers. I think anytime we force ourselves to be quiet and listen, we will hear the whispers from god.
Indeed, one message that was repeated to me was that we can all access this universal wisdom in our own way. There is nothing “magic” about the left-handed writing. We can hear wisdom in our hearts, on the breeze, in laughter, and in tears. Thanks for commenting, RCS.
Loved this. Thanks for sharing
Thanks, Marjorie. Glad you liked it.