Midnight had passed, it had become darker and a storm was approaching bringing much larger waves.
Someone had turned up the volume, then they turn it down. Then up. Then down. Although the furrow was erased from the sand, the image in Tilly’s mind was much more ineradicable. Even though it was gone, she realized she had transversed over it. She felt no increase in insanity.
It was her creation. She had created the fissure, and yet someone or something had taken it away from her without even asking. Mentally reconstructing her line in the sand, she realized it was a mark of division. As soon as it was scribed, she understood that she was on one side of it, and that she was separated from everything on the other side!
This ‘force’ – or whatever it was that destroyed the boundary – acted in her favor! Ironically, she was looking for the concluding clues to the facets of her life that caused her to be set apart, to be different.
What truly resonated with Tilly was the fact of effortlessness. She had been ‘drawn’ to the beach for answers to her personal questions. She thought a smile as she realized she had done ALL that was needed from her – she listened.
Tilly shuffled out of the surf, stood, and just admired all the pristine examples around her. That palm tree never dug a ditch around itself for isolation, the moon never erected barriers to hide its awe, the waves never silenced their beautiful music from any ear.
That line in the sand was so easily made. A little flip of the wrist and her cane had it done in an instant. The waves were again at her feet. She looked down at her cane and became immersed in the idea of how easily barriers and separations are formed.
As if planned, a wave with special impact broke at Tilly’s feet just as she dropped her cane. It floated there for a few seconds and then was swept out to sea. Within a few more seconds, Tilly was in tears. A glimpse of the Infinite, ushered in around midnight on a deserted beach on October 6th, was presented to her.
The sound of metronomic squishy shoes accompanied Miss Tilly back to her little abode. She heard them well, and opened up to absolutely anything else that she was supposed to hear or notice that evening.
The wind, the surf, the lighting, the Infinitude, the squishy-ness; all what used to be chaos to her, came together as a divine, magical orchestral arrangement.
From then on, for Tilly, the music never stopped.
Oh…if only we could see everything through the eyes of Tilly. The drop of the cane…divinely orchestrated for freedom💜
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