At times, I feel I am floating in ink.
Have I been damned like the leviathan that Saint Columba banished into the deep? Am I to be forgotten here, forever aching to return to the light flickering far, far above?
And then I hear the smallest voice. It is like a gentle current rising from a crack in the ocean floor—rising to stir the water in which I find myself suspended. It says to me:
In the stillness is where you will find Me. In the silence where nothing can be heard but My voice, even be it the faintest whisper. Here, the sun cannot blind you, salty breezes cannot swoon you, crashing waves cannot deafen you. Here, you will discover who you are, for I dwell within you, and I am the Light who reveals all.
Here, only I AM.
And it is then that I realize I am breathing—I am alive. I am not lost.
I am found.