The mystery of life is like an ambulance quietly parked on the sideline of existence. It doesn’t rush in. It’s always there, humbly waiting, a presence that doesn’t demand attention but is utterly ready when needed. It’s not passive; it’s quietly potent, like the stillness that permeates the air before a storm.
We aren’t merely observers of time passing—we’re moving with it, through the tunnel of now. This tunnel isn’t empty; it’s teeming with presence. It’s a vibrant passage, where each moment holds the pulse of everything—physical, emotional, psychological. And in the core of this tunnel, there is silence. A silence not of absence, but of profound attention. It’s the silence between breaths, between thoughts. It surrounds us as we move forward, offering no judgment, no interruption. It just is, holding space for every sensation, every thought to unfold in its time.
Like a tree whose roots stretch deep into the earth, the silence beneath our awareness anchors us. It is felt more than heard—a presence within the presence. In this silence, we are neither separated from the world nor lost in it. We are in communion with all that is unfolding, unspoken. When my grandson looks back at me on the playground, seeking my gaze, he isn’t asking for words. He’s receiving the silence of my attention—the pure, uninterrupted space that says, I am here with you.
And in this silence, there is trust. It doesn’t rush us, doesn’t hurry the experience. It allows everything to unfold as it will. This is the mystery of life at work, not as a distant force, but as a quiet companion in the tunnel of now. The silence isn’t a void—it’s the bedrock beneath our experience, shaping it without ever needing to be seen. In its presence, the ego relaxes. Words dissolve. The pull of endless questions softens. And in the stillness, we discover that we don’t need the answers—we simply need the awareness of being here, now.
Spiritual Gravity 