The hardest part about adding a blog post is letting go of everything else. Yesterday's song, last week's reactive state, the surrender to 5D - they come with this meditation and yet are not this moment. Instead, this is an open diary. For a few minutes this meditation is the formation of words, a sudden extroversion out of a solitary life.
And you are the readers who understand this. We all lead solitary lives. Solitude is definitively hermetic, and Tao and Wicca. Beloved TI administrators wishing to see more discussions or posts do well to bear this in mind.
The mildly neurotic jewelry maker next door told me to stop singing out my window. We are friends, but he did not ask, instead he contact my landlord and requested he remain unidentified. That of course proved impossible, although our mutual friend (my landlord) did not betray him. I still love them both, and have adjusted my fresh air vocals to Quiet Voice.
The solitary life goes on.
When I finally take the stage again, the solitary life will go on.
When said twin flame and I share the same breakfast table for the first time, the solitary life will go on.
And for those who are emotionally secure, that is the freedom - as well as discipline - of the solitary life.
You see, there must be something much brighter to say.
Yes, but we've all at least glimpsed something that leaves language behind, that relegates art to grist for the mill. What else is there for me to give this spiritual cell over the internet but an honest formless hug?
The solitary life would stop slowly exhaling in front of the keyboard were a less exasperating form of hugging to be introduced into ip's environment.
Ip is a pronoun authored in this solitary life years ago. Perfect substitute for "it" or "his" in this case.