I must make my presence less conspicuous so that you become more independent, you recognize how much you are capable of, you understand how much you can achieve. And after the thrill of it all, you will come home and find me. But before that, you must find yourself and for that I must make you believe you are alone.”
Holding her head against his chest he murmured, “My child… if you forget all but this, that I am with you every moment, every instance in some form or the other, nothing else will matter.” Her troubled eyes told him that she was not convinced. If she could not see him, how could she believe he was watching over her? If she couldn’t hear his voice, how would she know he was guiding her? If she couldn’t touch him, how would she believe he was carrying her through all the dangers?
He put her head in his lap, gently, lovingly soothed her wild curls and said softly,
Upon the stillness of a cloud-filled afternoon, the child asked of the Mystic: “where is god, the creator, and how will I find the sacredness of his being?” and the Mystic answered: “Once upon a thousand years ago did a man seek the answer to your question. He searched the mountains for the One called God; but he only saw the green and yellow blanket of distant trees. He walked along the ocean shore, to know the creator of life; but all he heard was the rhythmic roar of the tide’s own song.
The End
