Where Light Remembers How to Flow
A Meditation on Heaven, Water, and What Waits to Bloom.
On specific good days, life feels like stepping from a cathedral (taken over by a lovely non-denominational faith organization) into morning sunlight, with rays illuminating outward in all directions.
Never empty. Never abandoned. Reclaimed by a deep, renewed, beautiful spirituality, wide open to receive all. More warm and welcoming than 99% of Life's other consciousness and activity.
Doors open to receive from inside and out a light that doesn't have to ask permission before blessing grounds underneath and sacred waters intuitively trickle with natural highlights and steadily-easily flow along eternal healing pathways.
Not knowing or aware of any crossover from our mortal presence on or close to Earth and The Great Wondrous Beyond many have named "Heaven."
Which brings me to ask the question, Is the word Heaven just an English word that represents an absolutely blissful universe that every moment forgets to withhold anything? No too-careful rationing of beauty. No judgment or approval system checking credentials before offering the sweetest all-sensory Grace imagined. Just an enormous abundance of expected fairness for all souls.
Holy Spirits in heaven are always trying to reach everyone equally. It's only the architecture we build that creates shadows that can too often expand into a space and eclipse any much-deserved healing light.
The English word Heaven means "The Covering. The Roof." In other languages it means Paradise, Jannat, Svarga, Nirvana—each word a small shiny chalice trying to hold a timeless ocean.
Heaven is reclaimed, waiting in and near our too-careful constructions. Ready to bloom if we collectively will it. Sad and weeping walls of division know important truths. Bright waters meandering through dark gardens never flow uphill to honor the tallest features of a neo humanist landscape. It always hydrates the lowest places first.
Water has the potential to be a precise metaphor. To hydrate is to give life, not just occupy a volume of space. A flood occupies. A drought occupies through absence. But hydration is relationship, an exchange. It is the moment when what was withering away chooses to openly receive and what was gratefully abundant chooses to give. Ongoingly becoming more giving.
During any stagnation or half-life nothing dies but nothing truly lives either. Dying and rebirthing happens in every moment—cells, breath, thoughts, seasons. Water doesn't wait for God's permission to evaporate, fall as rain, freeze, or flow. It's always in cycle, dying to one form to be born to another. We are participating in that cycle, not just observing it.
We refuse to wait for death to occur, but open to receiving all of death's natural cycles of renewal. Heaven isn't just a place we go but also a way of seeing, helping us stop resisting what is. That's heaven breaking through and refusing to wait for death to begin again.
Shadows have no substance of their own. They are the absence of light. And healing light, when given an opening thin or wide, streams in like it's been waiting forever to offer itself.