I would like to share a special gift with you from a very special person. Honorine is my client and I’m continually awe inspired by her gentle silky smooth way of holding herself. This spills into her writing; so much depth, wisdom and spiritual sensualness. Thank you Honorine for sharing and for allowing us to witness your most beautiful and higher self – “Sawabona”* Honorine
Enjoy all! (…and please don’t hesitate to leave your thoughts, I’m sure Honorine would love to hear them)
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New World – A short story by Honorine
He showed me a planet, as barren as the bleakest dessert, shrouded in darkness, positioned in the dustiest corner of the Universe. Forgotten, abandoned as dead, nothing appearing to be alive.. Looking out onto the Universe, the earth could be clearly seen, radiant, majestically glowing in rich vegetation, oceans that sparkled like sapphires, throbbing with life. The earth like a resplendent jewel in the crown of the Universe, rotating like a priceless pendant, reminding this planet of all the things it did not have in order to survive.
I asked ‘where will you start’
He said ‘I will start with that very same question, but I do not ask it from despair, from a feeling of not believing that I have the power to change what I see. I ask from wanting to learn where is the best place to create life from, and then I move to that place.
Gently he lifted the soil and let it pour through his fingertips back into the surface of this world.
He said ‘This is the place’.
I asked ‘why?’.
‘Because the soil lifts easily, it flows through my fingertips. It shows no resistance, it is ready for rebirth. It lives.
I ask why he is so sure that this task is even doable. To me it is a lost cause, sheer madness to even think that life can be created from such desolation.
He said that I truly believed I was alone; that the burden, as I saw it, could not be achieved so therefore it would be so. But he believed that a force greater than him is present. The evidence, he pointed out, showed itself in the creation of earth. The bedazzling reminder of the power of creation. If ever he doubted, and that time would never come, he was but to look upon this orb of life and know that with faith all things are possible. And then he set to work.
A small mound of earth he carried to the warmest part of the planet and set it down. He got down to join it, closed his eyes and fell silent. I wanted to ask what he was doing, but it was obvious. He was connecting to his God, his faith, his creator of Mother Earth. Together they would build this world, the invisible force working through the physical form of man, to bring forth the manifestation of beauty, of life, of love, to a place lying forsaken for too long.
When his prayer was finished, he went back to where he started and continued to do the same thing. The moving of the small handfuls of earth to a place of warmth, the silent blessing, the pouring of a promise to bring life back to each and every part of this new world done patiently and diligently. Such was his faith, that he showed no tiredness, no disbelief, only serenity. Time had no relevance here but eventually the planet was covered in subtle patches of colour; shades of blue, hues of green, dots of white, brown, black, pink, red, splashes of lilac, purple, yellow.
He stood amongst his patchwork quilt landscape, like any skilled embroiderer admiring his labour of love. I asked what he was doing now that he had birthed colour. He said that he would communicate with this new world, and ask it how it wanted to look.
He remained still, listening to the softest breeze that had come to join him. She had heard from her friends the stars that love was creating a new world, and she wanted to be a part of this creation. She had brought her sister sun, and brother moon, for she wanted him to work in continual light to complete the task.
He squatted like a flexible yogi in a lotus position, and began taking small pieces of colour from the planet. Like a skilled sculpture playing with plasticine, he fashioned flowers, and trees, and animals, and birds, and fish, and rivers, and oceans, and people until the planet became a throbbing place of life. As he worked he hummed a tune so silvery that the notes were difficult to hear unless there was complete silence. Only then could the tune be heard, and the words could be felt.
I asked him what the song was. He said it was the song of remembrance imbued in every single life form. Everything was connected to each other by the invisible thread of the tune. It was not evident to the naked eye but there nonetheless in the silence of the heart, and the beating of the life force from which it had come.
I asked him when would he know that his work was done.
He said ‘when life sustains itself. I look with love upon my work and like any loving parent I set my children free to create worlds of their own. You look at me and marvel. You think of me as God, someone greater than you. You think you cannot do what I have just shown you is possible. You have forgotten to listen to the tune of remembrance of who you are, and where you have come from. The tune placed in the silence of your heart. Listen my beloved, and you will understand
‘Sing he said
But I didn’t know the words.
Dance he said
But I didn’t know the steps.
Love he said
But I didn’t have the heart.
Live he said
But I didn’t know how.
Trust he said,
And I will show you how’.
* http://wisdomtogo.com/i-see-you-a-new-kind-of-hello/
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