The mystery is unfolding, how and what is will look like is part of the unfolding. As I caress the world, fly with the wind on its wings, listen to its songs, melt into the belly of the earth, gape wide-eyes and hear-soaring at the stars, love with the moon and rejoice with the sun, the mystery is all around me and I within it.
So the question is not how and what but will I let the mystery find me, will I allow its unfolding, will I join in breathing and singing it into being again and again. There is nothing more important than to hold the mystery in the palm of my hand, like the most precious I have ever held, gaze at it lovingly with all my heart and soul and let it unfold.
Hold it gently with open palm so it can take flight at any time and yet, give it the strength and solidity of my warm, sweet hand through which my blood flows. Be in awe at its beauty and continuously dazzling change in color. Accept its flight as well as its settling into my hand. Be grateful for both. And not be afraid, my hand will always be the right one, just what is required.
Don't squeeze too tightly or I might kill it.
Don't grab after it or I might scare it or wound it.
Don't make a fist or it can't reveal itself.
Don't fear what it requires of me, surrender to it.
Keep my palm open and the unfolding will be beyond my current imagination and I will say to myself and the world: it is so.
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