The Perfect Pace

It started as an idea, then it was shared, this idea resonated within the soul hardening it like an icicle hanging from the overhang above my bedroom window. The warm sun touching it at midday glistened and magnified the color and texture of the frozen water. Just as the sun radiates upon the icicle, so too does the idea begin to radiate in my soul warming my heart with its possibilities. Reflecting upon the frozen water suspended in my view, it begins to melt. The drops of water slowly separating from the solid structure and hanging in a suspended balance at the tip of the icicle, rest there for a moment before being released to the ground below. The idea too begins to fragment into pieces of smaller ideas, each taking on a direction of their own. Contemplating each piece before releasing it to become a separate ideal of its own, the whole becomes fragmented into multiple possibilities. Then the separation falls and joins a new puddle of like ideas. As each water droplet separates from the whole and falls to join a liquid group, it grows in size and depth. Soon the size takes on a life of its own and begins moving away from the puddle. Channeling through the yard and into the street, where it meets up with more liquid molecules, and they travel together on a path of least resistance, carrying with them a common ideal. These souls of a common ideal grow, as new members follow and join them upon their path. The size of their numbers and depth of their being increase like the water flowing from the street and into the river. Great numbers of water molecules, just like common souls, grow into a massive river, but an undercurrent begins to form and gain strength. This undercurrent of doubt and fear has set into motion a turbulence of negativity as the water moves swiftly to the ocean. The original idea is now obscured from its original meaning, so it is lifted to the sky of the higher self, and raised above the undercurrent of negative, fear and doubt. Here it is purified and strengthened, before it falls gently back to the earth plane in the form of a snow flake, quietly and softly returning to its place of origin. As the temperature becomes colder and the days become dark and gloomy, this molecule or idea is transformed by the season and hardened into a beautiful icicle hanging outside my window. And so the cycle begins, with an idea, hardened by its surroundings and released by the sunlight of positive energy. This idea swept away by the masses, swallowed by fear and doubt, and cleansed by the higher self is found in the rhythm or the perfect pace of life. Purpose and meaning are a part of life’s cycled where just as one season ends and the next begin