A Whisper

This is a whisper in my head. That means it is not clear. Not a clear thought or idea, just a whisper.

There are these spirits that run across one of the valleys in my soul. They are warriors, hunters, reactors. They react without thought, quickly, so quickly that sometimes their action is complete before the event has begun. I know that is not possible but remember this is not real, I think, just a whisper. There is a deity that watches them from some place that feels not like my soul but more like my head. Okay now I am not saying that this means my soul is some place other than my head, but we are talking about feeling, not knowing. So I really don't need to explain this.

Anyway the deity watches and often sends storms into the valley in order to bring about change. The storm destroys the spirit warriors village and causes them to move and rebuild and keep trying to bring order back to their life. They do all this quickly, so quickly.

One day the deity set a storm that lasted for some time. The warriors hid from it as long as they could, but then chose to war against the storm. As the storm raged on, all they would do would be to run at it and try to pierce it with their spears. The storm simply sent the spears flying back, many warriors were killed. When the storm died out, something strange was left behind. A sphere that spoke of wonders, secrets, and dreams lay on the valley floor. Some listened, but most reacted swiftly and tried to kill the sphere and stop it from speaking.

As the spears struck the sphere they were drawn in and the energy of the spears brought with them the story of each warrior. All the spears gathered in the center of the sphere creating a kind of flower that seemed to amplify the wonderings that continued to emanate outward from the sphere. The sight and the stories slowed the warriors and they stopped their swift reacting and began to think and wonder about everything.
To this day the spirit warriors sit listening and at peace, in one of the valleys of my soul. They listen to the sphere reflecting there stories back to them. The sphere I believe is a fragment of the creative force of the universe. These fragments lodge themselves in many places with in each persons soul. We then spend our entire lives making attempts to hear the stories of existence held with in us.

This has been a whisper, only a whisper, if it had been actual information it would have made sense.

This is the full therapy painting the whispers came from. Just me playing with paint. The colors have been computer enhanced, the original is really quite dull.

Jeff listening to paint