Waters:

When the seas rise and the waters sink, and hope is carried off by the sun beneath a sunset of rose-colored farewell, trust.

When the abyss swallows you and the lightning of confusion lights up the highest ambition you have raised over your confused skies, wait.

It is not you who is moving forward. You are only the circumstance through which you are.

In the beginning of the universe, before time, the Earth was empty and the Spirit moved upon the face of the waters.

In the beginning of existence, in the timeless present, the Spirit is still the origin of everything that fills the Earth.

And when darkness looms over your only firmament and the stars spill their crumbs singing melodies of solitude, trust.

The Spirit is still your origin. You are not what you believe you are.

And you seek to improve, and you work day and night to awaken. And you sacrifice your last breath of vitality, steadfast through storms and winters, chasing the idea of gathering at the end of your journey a scrap of peace to take with you to the beyond..

The waters laugh, celebrating the joy of watching the Spirit try to splash about among them as if they were the obstacle keeping Him from finding Himself.

All is well. And this is no consolation for the you who doubts. This is the confirmation for the you who observes.

There is nothing to be done with you to make you better. Whatever must be done, you are already living it. While that happens, you are observing. And to become better, what you must do with yourself is trust.

Trust in you, the one who observes. You are always here. You have never failed. You have never strayed from yourself.

When the dark waters conspire their whirlpools to swallow a pair of feet kicking desperately to walk, observe.

You are not the one who is sinking. Observe, you are back there, observing. The sunset was only an afternoon of beautiful farewell for the one on the other side describing it.. At the core of you, the sun has never stopped shining.

The breeze still smiles. The sea still hovers in order over the face of the Earth. The Spirit keeps fluttering toward its creation, in sacred gestation.

And when you learn to tell calm from cold, when you learn to hear the steady silence of your ancestry above the faint crackle of the shell bursting open and above your laments as you face it, you will be born.

When, regardless of what the waters that nourish the sprout of a human being you believe you are may do or undergo, the cycle of life's development comes to a close, you will open your eyes to the beauty of the Universe.

You don't have to do anything: Trust.