I am intrigued by the path of the Mystic—the path of persons who are concerned not with knowing the letter of the Word, or religious dogmas, but with knowing the Spirit of the Word, people who live from within a direct experience of God at the very core of their being.
I believe that God exists not because I can prove it, but because I have experienced it, just like I have drank the sweet nectar of a sunset cascading across the dusk of brilliant orange skies.
The path of a mystic is one of on-going transformation, it constantly evolves, unfolds, it continues to draw me deeper inside to my core. It is for me a direct experience of God that I know is as real as my skin.
There is a type of synergy between God’s love and my receiving that love which propels me ever inward to find and know in some small way I have touched my Soul. Whatever that place inside of me and you one might call, I believe it exists. It lives and breathes and nudges me, invites me to listen to the Deep within me like an inner compass. I cannot name it, much like I cannot name what I feel inside when I hear the wind whisper its soothing breeze to me on a balmy mid-summer afternoon. But when I sense God’s presence I know it is me and my untethered Soul God has touched.