Letting Go with Guy Finley

All that is moves through and expresses itself in cycles. Think of the seasons: each spring there is a stirring, the promise of a birth yet to come; we see, revealed before us, the appearance of possibilities that were formerly at rest. The summer brings the fulfillment of spring’s promise in its plenitude. Come the fall, natural forces subside; there is a reversal in the direction of energies. Enter the winter, and all movement halts; everything rests in solitude entombed in its last form prior to this cycle. And then everything starts again.

Whenever we are graced with a glimpse of truth and see its veracity and feel the first warmth of its possibility stirring in us, a seed of celestial possibility is awakened in our soul in that same moment. And though its fruition is yet to come, something in the ground of our soul senses its abundance; there is a silent but strengthening yearning, much as one might imagine a seed’s first effort to reach up and touch the light of the sun whose radiance has awakened it.

Slowly, steadily—as is true of any seed still in the early days of being in the dark earth—we are moved by what we know not, save for a sweet intuition of its beauty and strength. If we remain quietly receptive, we gradually realize what each of these seed moments alone makes possible: the flowering of new self-understanding, with all its abundance and peace. And then, as it must, the forces responsible for the fulfillment of things yield to a time for rest and reconciliation; solitude descends, and we take rest in a form that will be the next seed.

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