He began to speak and I cringed. “Oh, this is not the place to be saying those things! Those people will not hear you, can’t you see that?”
The wizard stood in front of a room filled with people who have never tasted magic. They faced life’s hardships and miseries and their faces were set, their minds organized for fighting, for survival.
“Open to what you are as God” the wizard said and I cringed, again. I felt the restlessness, the surprise, the annoyance that was not yet an open anger, not yet …
I felt people around me stir uneasily within the confines of their minds … or was it me stirring? Was the discomfort, the confusion, the embarrassment theirs — or was it mine?
The wizard spoke. He spoke as though he hasn’t noticed anything. He spoke as though he did not face a room full of strangers — strangers to himself, strangers to his world, strangers to his reality.
He spoke
and the room quieted.
And then the room opened.
The organized minds relaxed,
the survival has been suspended,
faces softened.
They all opened. Opened to what they are as God.
The wizard spoke, serenely, gently, quietly. He spoke as though he hasn’t notice the disturbance, he spoke as though there was no strangeness. He spoke his words, he spoke his truth, he spoke his reality,
and there was no strangeness.