Whispers from the Universe

     Don't you love little sweet nothings from the universe? Don't you love how you can go half asleep through each day, then one day remember your connection to all things living and wake up again?  Don't you love that when you do wake up, the universe is right there sitting patiently like a mother watching her child sleep and waiting for the moment when he wakes, like a mother relishing the sighs, restless tossing and turning, sweet closed eyes of her child? How like a mother, the universe cherishes us just as much, sleeping or awake, and eagerly awaits the moment our eyes pop open, we rub them, we look up and stretch our arms out to be lifted up?  And how the universe will always, always hold us close when we ask.  Don't you love it?
     How do we know?  Those little sweet nothings.  When we decide to stretch out our arms, we open are ears and hear coincidences, come across a meaningful quotation, get an email from a friend that says exactly what we needed to hear.  We get a shining sun day, or a grey contemplative day - we get what we need.  Little sweet nothings.
     I received this today: "Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves" - Rainer Maria Rilke   I was regretting opening my arms to the search. I often start down the seeker's path only to become overwhelmed and intimidated by how far there is to go, remembering that as far as I go, I have to get back, fearing getting lost.  I like my rabbit hole, the safety of knowing and not doing.  This time out, I see that I can't go back - this time the path is overgrown by the bramble of dissatisfaction - there is no way back to the place of unhappiness and unfulfillment.  This leaves me stranded out in the middle of the way, with my arms stretched up, listening for whispers from the universe.