Do you ever get that feeling--in your soul, in your heart--when you’re all alone that there’s “something” out there? You have to be alone for this. You have to be silent. Usually, you have to be out in nature, although some very old and classic pieces of architecture can also bring this feeling out.
At first you feel like a voyeur. Like a watcher. Sneaking around and seeing something that wasn’t meant for you. It’s like you stumbled upon a lucky accident. Everything around you seems to fit into this big and beautiful picture, except for you because you’re the watcher. You’re on the outside looking in.
But if you stay, you start to feel the “something.” And what’s more, you start to realize that maybe you’re not the watcher after all. Maybe you’re the “watched.” Maybe you are the one being observed. Maybe you are the lucky accident.
You see the mist rising out of the water. You know it’s calling to you. You know what it says. It’s telling you to lay down all your foolishness, to stop all your posturing, to abandon your grasping and pulling. It’s telling you that you’re perfect and you’re loved just the way you are. It’s asking you to forgive yourself.
Because in the great scheme of things, in the plans of the Great Alchemist, you are a perfect individual snowflake, and there isn’t anything more wondrous to watch in the world.