Every year a deepening. That’s what I’m feeling.

It’s as though the earth, herself, weaves her way in, more and more, bent on thoroughness – on addressing every unacknowledged space.

A cusp.

A precarious one.

Both personally and on a macro level.

Feelings merged, despite the polarity of what, I suspect, are the likely outcomes.

As one attuned to the rhythm of things, it becomes increasingly evident when those rhythms get off kilter. When those “knowns” become an approximation of what was once “truth.”

How to ground oneself on shifting sands.

Levels of constancy.

It’s so easy to take for granted the fortitude, the resiliency, the steady ebb and flow of this earth upon which we walk and depend.

What if?

Star stories. Millenia in the making, and yet they are stories: beginning, middle, end.

Is this where the connection to “God consciousness” comes to play?

How can we, mere humans, channel this one constant?

How, when mother earth has served as its conduit, and now, aches for a role reversal?

We must keep listening.