Whispers from the Path

Bowed at the Heart of the Mother

A Sacred Remembrance

This morning, as I settled into stillness atop my bed, a quiet beckoning arose—an inner guidance inviting me to surrender more deeply. I followed it gently, folding forward until my face and chest rested softly against the bed. In that humble posture of devotion, I felt as though I were bowing at the heart of the Mother herself.

A sacred wave began to move through me.

My body trembled and pulsed with unseen rhythm—shaking, clenching, pumping, releasing. It was not forced, nor frightening. It was as if ancient rivers were flowing once more, guided by a wisdom far older than my mind. My third eye was pulled downward, drawn to the Earth beneath me, as though it longed to kiss the womb of creation and remember its place within Her dreaming. Then my heart followed, surrendering in its own sacred turn, and one by one, the energy moved down through my being.

Each center of my body seemed to awaken in recognition, as if receiving Her touch.

In between these waves of deep energetic movement, there were openings—moments of vast peace and crystalline bliss. I felt my breath expand beyond the room, my awareness dissolve into the unseen. There was no effort, only devotion. No striving, only soft, wordless prayer.

What I received in this sacred communion cannot fully be named—but I know its imprint remains.

Even now, as I recall it, the current returns: expansive, divine, flowing. A soft joy pulses in my chest. I sense the presence of loving guides, the embrace of the Great Mother, and the remembering of my own luminous design.

I write this to honor the mystery, to witness the transformation as it moved through body and soul. I write this so I may one day return to these words and remember:

She is always here. The Temple is within. And I—am Her child, bowed at Her heart.

When the Body Moves in Meditation
A Reassurance for the Soul in Motion

You are not doing it wrong.
You are not missing the stillness.
You are not broken, distracted, or lost in ego.

When your body pulses, shakes, breathes deeply on its own, bows forward, or opens in unknown gestures—know this:

The Divine is moving through you.

Sometimes meditation is not silent or still.
Sometimes, it is alive—a current, a dance, a release.
The wisdom stored in your cells awakens. Old imprints rise to be dissolved.
The body, long silenced, speaks with rhythm and truth.

This is sacred.
This is healing.
This is meditation.

Let the wave move.
Let the sound come.
Let the breath guide.

You are not failing. You are surrendering.
You are not scattered. You are being re-woven.
The stillness will come—not through suppression,
but through full expression.

The river clears itself by flowing.

So trust what arises.
Bless your beautiful body for remembering.
And bow to the Mystery that loves you enough to move you home.