You and I May never meet, But our thoughts Interweave through words.
We may have unique names, We may have different views, Yet our journey is entwined In the many paths home.
In every acknowledgment Of this great truth Of the interconnects We align with ourselves.
Along our unique way, The choice is ours To find ourselves In one another…
Living life lovingly.
Savvy
A note in gratitude for beautiful response in a comment on Interwoven from a dear reader, that sparked my third poem in this series on the very essence of Oneness.
My first poem Interwoven spoke of the universal source (nature, sun, ocean).
The second Endless Beginnings spoke of the internal journey (storms, dust settling).
With this third poem, Oneness, I choose to honor the bridge between people who may have never met face to face, yet are sensing moments of oneness simply entwined through words & mutual recognition.
Thank you for reading and responding with such heartfulness… Across time and distances whenever we pause to acknowledge these interconnections, we not only find ourselves, but also send forth a ripple in the oneness.
I am grateful to all the seasons To wish for only one season Can be cruel to the world As nature balances itself Through every season So I wish for cycles of seasons All in good time Then no summer is too hot Or winter too cold to bear.
I wish for balance In the seasons to come Be it rain or autumn For nature to survive& thrive The seasons must come and go And thats what is best for all.
It’s a conscious choice to write more, yet streamline my work.
So you may find me posting erratically every once in a while. Although I continue to write every day as I have for the past couple of years .
I simply started to switch to writing on paper, and I shall post one here regularly, but perhaps not every day. I sense great joy in picking up a pen and writing. It connects me up wires my hand brain coordination a little more than tapping on digital keys.
I already find myself relaxing into it as now I can write anywhere anytime with or without internet . This is simplifying as much as satisfying to me.
To talk about the day I first picked up the pen to write, I wrote a few words and found how strange it felt to be actually inking on paper after so long . It was a missing action piece in my work. Typing is not the same thing. It takes away the flow of continuous touch of the pen on paper.
Although I have written every day digitally over these years. I realise how important it is to never lose touch with writing by hand.
Writing digitally may be faster but fine muscle coordination and postural stability improve when you write with a pen.Something I want to work on again…
The simple joys of flowing with a pen and looking at your work right before you, a tangible piece that connects you with yourself in the touch. It’s hard to replace.
My writing, which seemed erratic at first due to lack of practice, has seen much improvement. Hope this art is not forgotten by other writers.
A point of reflection:
When was the last time you took time to write with a pen on a page ?
It makes a world of difference in a ‘ever busy world’ that’s always checking time. Giving time and energy to understand another with empathy will help shift perspectives for the better.
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