Witnessing the Witness

I am regularly pulled into questioning my capacity to witness the world from the eyes of the creator like I always experienced it at a very young age.

I recall being 3 or 4 years old and mesmerized by ants, leaves, the bark of trees, rocks, animal feet prints on the forest soil, and microorganisms swimming in a drop of water.

I did not know at the time that my neurodiversity and my obsession with details would be such a gift and also a difficult burden at times.

Amazed and in awe at the magic of life. Of all life. With a thousand unanswered questions on the why, the hows, and the what... With one silver lining thread of love and wonder.

As a grown-up I long for the moments of slowness and silence, gifted by the winter months and my intention to return deep within, to take that precious time to also return to the child view of the world.

An embracing of not knowing. A wild, ancient, universal, and natural attitude to bear witness to the mysteries, the great Mystery.

In a culture and world so hungry for speed and answers, I still find more meaning and nourishment when I slow down and when sitting with unanswered questions. So much more love there. So much more authenticity. So much more safety. So much more space. So much more light.

Yet the slowing down also allows ancient pains to speak...

Maybe it is that process of slowly burying the war machete I used towards my own failures and turmoils, finally softening in the places of my body that had to harden to face the unbearable pain.

Understanding this new wisdom that is so ancient and that still dwells so powerfully and so silently in every piece of grass, every leaf, every rock, every feather.

I pray that this softening of my own body, of my heart, invites a return of softness in my life and the world.

Let it be a calling for what wants to be heard and remembered wherever it seems to hide often ironically in plain sight.

May my words soften as I speak to myself, to others, and to the world, as I remember that I am always speaking to God whether She is in the shape of a body, a tree, a leaf, a rock, or a feather.

May the witnessing become the all-seeing Witness.

Angell Deer