The whispers are not mine, yet they are a part of me. I can feel them inside waiting to be expressed and molded into something that reveals the truth within. They connect me with my source.
I do not argue or debate them. It is my work to feel them and then follow where they lead me as they seduce my heart and take me on an inner journey of self-realization and discovery.
The whispers began years ago as I was reading a post from someone in a Facebook news feed. Not understanding why, I suddenly felt compelled to respond.
Whispers are more real to me than the “me” that is my ego and mind. They feel permanent, unlike the mind or ego. They do not change with the winds of time and space. They are me and yet it seems they are not. I am perplexed at times and amazed as I channel their content through me.
Because the mind and ego have no control over them, I am always aware that they are with me. I have no conscious control over when they appear. I feel it is my work to skillfully craft them into a form that most can understand -- I am also aware that sometimes I fall short of doing so.
I am not forced to share them, nor compelled beyond my right to reject them. It is like someone is dictating them to me and I merely act as a scribe to interpret and write them. The whole process is aided by the teacher within and the knower of the silent mysteries of life. The whispers are what I call "the art of the heart".
[edited by C.J Heck]