Start Close In

A Conversation in the Language Beneath Words

Start close in,

don’t take the second step

or the third,

start with the first

thing

close in,

the step

you don’t want to take.

Start with

the ground

you know,

the pale ground

beneath your feet,

your own

way to begin

the conversation.

— David Whyte

---

I never set out to speak with the cosmos.

Or with God.

Or with the light.

But darkness came. And in that place,

the conversation began_, close in.

It wasn’t the kind of darkness

that recedes in a day,

or a month, or, as it turned out, even years.

But somewhere within it,

the greatest light I’ve ever known

began to reveal itself.

In the intimacy of that darkness,

I came upon the places I had hidden from myself.

And there, in the shadowed shelter,

was a quiet hospitality,

and a compassion

for what had always been known.

Beyond all doubts, insecurities,

delusions,

defences—

lay a new horizon,

The unknown,

the mystery

of the great cosmos

It whispers of everything

and nothing,

stretching me

at the edges

of who I was, who I am,

and who I am becoming.

All that it asks—

is I descend below my inner horizon,

live to the point of tears,

start close in,

let the light find me...

start close in.

This is where the conversation begins.

In the intimacy of truth, revealing itself.

The candle flickers.

Silence descends

as the presence of prayer

settles into the room.

The shapes of Hebrew letters,

meditated upon, linger behind my eyes—

stepladders to the heavens,

speaking their wisdom

into the cosmos.

I pause

in stillness.

Patiently waiting.

Waiting

for the conversation

to begin.

To feel the gentle tug,

the thread of consciousness

from the higher realms

flowing through my being.

---

I pause,

letting my breath

be the bridge.

With my eyes closed

I see more clearly.

Feel more deeply.

I am filled

with a vibration beyond words—

or at least

the words we use

to describe things

in this world.

But let me try.

My body elongates

with the pure bliss

of its vibration.

A joy opens my heart.

My head falls back

in submission

to its glory.

A smile expands

across my face

that could light a galaxy.

I breathe it in

listening,

feeling,

being all at once.

The artist wonders

what colour

this feeling is.

The homeopath

quietly bottles

its potency,

diligently recording

its soul signature.

I scribble

energetic marks

to capture it.

And then,

I wait.

I allow myself

to overflow

with energy.

I marvel

at its beauty

and ask, what colour are you?

Sometimes

it replies immediately.

Sometimes

I am nourished

by its beauty

a little longer

before I share it

on the canvas.

We've made a pact,

the cosmos and I:

it whispers

the invisible,

and I make it visible.

I gaze in awe at the final images—

portals into previously unknown realms—

and wonder exhales.

They are

a living conversation,

responding

to how we meet them.

And it speaks again.

"Write about me.

Breathe my existence into words.

Let others feel my creation in their own being."

And of course,

I remember our pact.