Field Notes of a Wanderer

Dear Wanderer,

To live from the marrow,

to reach where the soul meets the divine,

to draw forth the fire that God planted,

and let it burn—not for the world to see,

but to feel.

To feel it in the quiet rhythm of your breath,

in the weight of your steps

on this holy, uneven ground.

There is no pretending here.

No masks, no varnish,

just the raw grain of who you are—

the knots, the cracks, the lines

that tell a story only heaven could write.

To walk in this world

is to walk as the wind moves:

seen or unseen,

but always true.

Authenticity is not loud;

it does not scream to be heard.

It is a whisper that ripples

through the fabric of the day,

threading itself

into moments too small to notice.

It is in the love poured out

into the cracks of the earth

and the spaces between the words.

And so, you walk.

You carry the essence of the eternal,

crafted in quiet eternity,

breathing the language of creation.

You speak in poetry—not words,

but the poetry of presence,

of living so deeply rooted

that the world around you

bends toward the light you carry.

For this is what it means

to draw from the depths:

to bear the weight of your soul

and offer it, unpolished and unafraid,

to the One who made it whole.

❦ Chrysi

©️ 2024 Christina Whalen

Haiku

Light filters softly,

Steps whisper on sacred ground,

Soul meets the divine.