The Call

I need to unplug.

I need silence, stillness, depth.

I long for the quiet, for those heart-breakingly sweet moments when I fall softly into the space between thoughts and find my Self.

I want to bathe in those moments, to bask in them, to soak them up like wine. I want to be drunk on God and empty of everything else which means nothing to my heart.

I need to feel more on my skin and see less on a screen.

I want to be invisible to the push and pull of the world, to duck beneath its restless tide and be with things that know me only by the smell of my sweat and the rhythm of my breath.

I want to be nameless, faceless, voiceless.

I want more presence, more openness until every pore of my flesh overflows with Spirit.

I want to finish uncovering the hidden places of my soul, the buried and almost (but not quite) gone places.

I want to give myself fully to my creativity, to make love to it, to be consumed by it — without hesitation and without distraction.

I want to explore a deeper love with my partner, a wild love, the kind found only by way of fierce presence.

I want to step away from the habitual dead and to do only the things that touch me deeply and profoundly.

I want to know the land I live on more intimately, to feel its soil in my hands every day.

I want to work less and to play more. I want to live less in the noise of the “must do” and the “must have” and more in the subtle spaces that feel like home.

I want, not to have my prayers answered, but to become my prayer, to embody it, to make it a living, breathing thing.

I’m moving closer than skin to Soul and letting everything else go — and I’m doing it now because a moment more could just be too late.