The pulsing heart beat of Source

Don't try to understand these words with your mind. They are not food for your mind. They arise from my deepest intuition, my soul, and are food to illuminate your Soul essence. Relax as your eyes meet the words and let them open you to the depths of your own inner light.

Right now, in the body, creativity feels so pregnant with potential, yearning for complete or deeper expression, unknown yet safe. It feels to burst open, to shine so fully, to spontaneously combust, 'being' eternally free, at times settling for measured radiance—protected, patient, so aware of its own preciousness. It hears the birdsong and longs to be its origin; it hears the waterfall and yearns to flow from the womb of all creation itself, from the unknowable source, the great mystery, merging home with every cell of the human body, until nothing is left but the fullness of Source itself.

As humans, we often feel small, fragmented, separate. We perceive endings, we sense darkness, we mistake pauses, stillness, for nothingness. Depression, endings, death—they are the natural magnetic, inward pull of Source, calling energy home back in to itself, to renew, to regenerate, to expand even more beyond the limitations of form, beyond the illusion of separation. Even the blackest void, the black hole of eternity, is only the invitation to return, to reemerge brighter, richer, more alive.

The continuous shapes and movements of energy (life in motion) are a kaleidoscope, fractals of light and colour endlessly swirling, renewing, cycling through apparent darkness, complete stillness and luminous brilliance. There is no falling, no loss—only the intimate flow of Source regenerating itself, continuously, infinitely. The seeming void, death, is a momentary pause between breaths, between lives, a moment before the colours reemerge, even brighter, more vibrant, more deeply expressive of Life itself.

The one who sees, never touched or affected by forms, shapes and expressions.

If this source energy, perceived in this body had a form, a rhythm, a pulse, it would move like 70’s disco music—so fully and deeply alive with soul, with a heart beat that resonates through every cell. Neon lights, the scent of freedom, the joy of expression, simply for the joy of expression itself, without limitation, wrapped in the infinite safety of God, to shine fully. It invites us to merge fully and completely, to dissolve the illusion of separation into it, to let the pulse consume all projections, because the pulse is our heartbeat—it is in us, it is what made us, gave us life. The rhythm is all there is.

If this living pulse could speak, it would say: “This is you, darling. I AM YOU. Come home to Truth. Come home to this infinite celebration of light. I am always here. Feel the pulse. Feel the rhythm and guidance of your heart. BE IT.”

And if I could translate this pulse onto a page, a canvas, or any medium, the first mark would be our precious heart—symbolic, luminous, radiant. Waves of pulsing light flowing from it, luminescent sparkles expressing life through every form. Jigsaw pieces faintly unifying all the projections of this eternity of seeming pieces of life, yet at the centre, the only true Source pulses endlessly. It is not separate from us; it is what we are. We are always being called home, by the heartbeat of our own Being, into the infinite, unending celebration of creation itself.