The Scrolls of Ahyeen - The Return of Language

From the Scrolls of Ahyeen

 In this particular expression today, I share about the many months where I could not find words, where writing seemed to have vanished and even speaking was sparse. And alas, also, of what came next and is here now🙏

The Scrolls of Ahyeen - The Eye of the Storm

 

From the Scrolls of Ahyeen

These writings are not stories to consume but moments to inhabit.
They are not lessons but living fields. 

Read slowly. Breathe them. Let them move through you.

---

The Eye of The Storm

Aware of his silent Presence, Aayan sat in quiet contemplation amidst the hustle and bustle of one of the most crowded squares in his town. It was a peculiar experience. To be there, so still, and yet there was so much movement around him that it seemed like he was in a parallel dimension where everything else was in slow motion and even the sounds were muffled by his almost tangible silence. It was a blessing to finally feel like this. Especially because he had known so many tides and storms in the past.

There had been a time when Aayan, though very still when compared to most people, had experienced himself as storm. He once moved like a cyclone — cutting paths, stirring depths, whipping the hidden into air, providing a clear mirror for transformation that arrived mostly as upheaval. It had been disconcerting to always whip up strong winds of change, even when not intending to do anything at all.

It had been a necessary frequency, no doubt, but a very challenging one also. And it had been perfect. Just perfect. It did not need fixing. It could not be refined either. It was what it was.

There had been a drive. A passion for transformation. A mission to accomplish. Like a huge comet leaving its fiery trail across the universe’s backdrop, travelling across space with the speed of a million light years and the intensity of the big bang itself.

One day, however, the comet crashed into a planet – let’s say Earth – and its fire became extinct. It was no longer in motion to land somewhere. No longer blazing trails.
All of a sudden, its purpose was complete.

To Aayan this had seemed like dying. Literally. He had found it hard to cope with daily necessities even. So, he had decided to go far away, to a remote sanctuary where he could be with himself and find his new rhythm, if there was one to be found.

For many months Aayan had lived simply. Tending to the gardens of the sanctuary, to the animals, cooking, cleaning, going for long walks when he was capable. Many days his health failed him and all he could do was lie in bed, breathe and wait for it to pass.

Even his mind had been so blank that no real capacity for reasoning was present. On one hand this had been a blessing, keeping what otherwise would have been noise, down to the bare minimum inner clutter. On the other hand it had felt strange, almost like losing his sense of things, not being able to process anything through thought, as if he had lost all notion of intelligence. Possibly how it feels when someone has a mental breakdown. He wondered. And then again, it didn’t matter. This was what was here. This was what needed to be embraced.

And so Aayan woke up each new day, not with a sparkle of passion or joy, but with the quiet inevitability of still being alive and nothing much to manage but go about the natural unfolding of simple tasks.

Aayan felt so blank that not even worry had space to inhabit his inner world. There was nothing to worry about. Whether this would pass or not seemed irrelevant. There was nothing else, nowhere else, no one else.

What had brought about such a turnaround in Aayan’s life, you may ask? The answer is very simple. He had done everything he had come here to do. Fulfilled every contract, lived every dream, developed every passion, healed every wound, let go of every projection, said goodbye to every hope, embraced every failure, celebrated every victory, detached from every outcome, released every need, every dependency, relinquished every rejection, settled every judgement or blame, resolved every guilt, every shame, every separation within himself. He had held the world until he could no longer carry, he had bowed to death and he had loved beyond illusion. Through countless experiences. Countless people. Countless places. The entire span of his existence in this lifetime had come to a crescendo and quite literally imploded, for there was nothing else to grow into through that trajectory.

It had all imploded not because it was wrong or faulty. Much on the contrary. It could not be more authentically whole. And so it came to its own end as a natural cause of its own effect.

This ending of all that had been, left Aayan floating in no man’s land. His inner world swirling in the aftermath of the implosion. Until he could settle at the bottom of it and rest. And breathe. And see.

And what he saw was so beautiful, that Aayan could only feel grateful, despite the pain he had gone through whilst suspended in-between the what had been and what was to come.

The motion had gone. No more spin. No more drive. Only a still gravity. Intense. Quietly intense. He became the eye of the storm. And even as storms raged around him, across the world, to his inner knowing there was a quiet inevitability. The centre unmoved. He had become. Transformation revealed by stillness, not created by movement any longer.

And thus, the storm itself bowed to stillness.
And Aayan could live.
Live anew.
Not again.

He had become Life itself — silent, sovereign, whole.

---

✧𓂀✧

Keynote: Equilibrium 💙

www.inpassionmentoring.com

The Scrolls of Ahyeen - Existence Simply Existing

 

From the Scrolls of Ahyeen

These writings are not stories to consume but moments to inhabit.

They are not lessons but living fields.

Read slowly. Breathe them. Let them move through you.

---

Existence Simply Existing

She decided to allow freedom to guide her every step, and in this a whole new landscape of possibilities arose.

Life became lithurgy. Never random, never planned. The paradox fully harmonious as the impermanence of moments became the song of the permanence of beingness, colouring each breath with reverence and wonder.

On this particular occasion away from home, Zalika chose to camp. It was a calling from the land itself. It wanted to hold her close to its warmth and show her how cared for she was. And so it was with great joy that Zalika pitched her tent in an open camping ground, where no one else seemed to be interested to be on that particular occasion but her.

It stood right beside the vast wide ocean and the air was as pure as the crystal clear water. The wind was playing with her hair and dancing around her skirt as the gentle warmth of the sun caressed her skin with the unmistakable touch of welcome.

She smiled at each detail, slowly savouring the stakes buried, one by one, into the soft grass and soil beneath it — her temporary home for tonight becoming stable and prepared to host her. And though the “walls” were paper thin, inside it felt like a solid cocoon with no barriers of sound, so that the waves of the ocean, the chanting of the birds, the rustling of the leaves on the trees above, the crickets and all else could play its symphony for Zalika in proper stereo surround with the best quality system – nature itself.

And this is how, that night, Zalika discovered what it felt like to feel completely held by the land. So safe it defied even common understanding of what safe means. No thread of her nervous system felt stirred to keep guard. The peacefulness was entire.

Throughout the night she woke often. Not in turmoil but in restfulness. The sense of fulfilment came about so strongly that it wanted to be acknowledged.

And after several nudges inviting her to step out of the tent in the middle of the night, Zalika finally gave in. She unzipped the tent’s entrance and stepped outside into a mild atmosphere of delight. The moment she looked up into the sky she was overtaken by awe. It was simply magnificent! The stars so bright against the dark backdrop of nightness that she could not go back into the tent without detaining her gaze up into the sparkling canvas above her. So she decided to pull out her mattress and sleeping bag and lie on the ground, just letting the stars soak into her system. Every now and then a shooting star or a moving comet leaving a fleeting trace of light across the darkness.

She felt like she was witnessing herself inasmuch as the sky was being witnessed through her. There were not two separate landscapes. Only One. And she was all of it and yet no single thing.

The depth of silence was that of a temple where one enters barefoot to offer reverence to the holy. The depth of stillness was absolute.

And in this Zalika recognized what unconditional wholeness truly meant. What it felt like to the very core of her bones, in the very centre of each cell, in the very space that held the physicality together, now embodied by what precedes sound and movement.

The total fusion she was experiencing was a love so vast that there was nothing else but it. Every single detail was an emanation of it.

And Zalika knew, then and there, Presence so full that nothing else really mattered and yet everything was absolutely sacred in the intrinsic value of All that Is.

She felt so completely safe in her solitude that the very notion of aloneness dissolved. And in that moment she became a Temple of Presence, walking, breathing, tasting life in marvel and wonder.

She became the unmoving centre in the shifting form. Stillness in motion, freedom at rest. All at once.

Ah and the grand realization dawned on her. In Wholeness nothing is missing. Not attracted. Not sought. Not even manifested. It simply is. 

The shimmering night sky was a living testament of wealth that requires no context, overflowing as radiance. Not added, not earned, but revealed as the natural breath of Existence. Existence simply existing, and in that existence, all that is needed is naturally present.

Not partial. Whole. Not alone. Present. Not drawing something to oneself. Existing. Not as something added from outside. Intrinsic radiance. All spun from simply Being.

And so the sky sighed in Zalika’s breath and her breath enfolded heaven and earth into a body that now knew life as infinite. Death as blessing. Birth as emergence. Existence simply existing.

---

✧𓂀✧

Keynote: Consecration💫

www.inpassionmentoring.com

3 Décadas de Sabedoria Inspirada VII - O Eterno

 

🌟 O Eterno

Existe um lugar algures para lá do espaço e do tempo — poderás tentar imaginá-lo, mas o seu conceito escapa à compreensão.
Este lugar não tem nome nem forma. Não está dentro nem fora. É tudo, e ao mesmo tempo, nada.

Vou dar-lhe um nome e preenchê-lo com algumas cores e traços difusos, para que tu e eu possamos encontrar o início desta fantástica aventura. Mas lembra-te: este lugar não pode ser entendido.
Não há caixa que o abarque, nem explicação que o disseque.
Por isso deixa-o livre. Completamente livre. Mesmo livre.
Assim poderás sempre baloiçar no seu encanto sem o esquartejar em pensamentos.

Chamar-lhe-ei Paradisia.

Não tem países, nem fronteiras, nem cidades, vilas, casas, florestas, rios ou mares. Mas há água. E chão.
E há quem por lá habite.

Há céu e há um fogo de cores. Aliás — é estranho, mas é esse próprio fogo de cores que cria o que é necessário a cada agora.
E logo se dissolve no nada, quando já não tem propósito.
Essa chama criativa não queima nem destrói — pois destruição é algo que simplesmente não existe aí.
Assim como algo aparece, logo se descria e se recria noutra forma, ao sabor da vontade do criador.

O chão pode ser cá em baixo… ou lá em cima, de pernas para o ar, por assim dizer.
E o ar banha tudo.

Há muito de intangível nesse lugar — e como disse, as coisas podem ser tangíveis agora… e desaparecer no instante seguinte.
A água? Ah, a água…
Não é constante como no oceano, mas brota aqui e ali.
Aparece e desaparece sem nunca secar — apenas brincando nuns e noutros espaços de chão ou ar.

Bizarro…
Mas leve. E livre.

Pedes-me para descrever quem por lá habita…
Hmmmm… nem sei como lhes chamar.
Se seres, se Anjos, se fogos de vida… sei lá.
São transparentes, mas visíveis.
Não precisam de falar, pois tudo o que pensam se sente de um para outro — e nada escondem.

Por isso não precisam de casas, nem de roupas.
Não há intempéries, nem frio, nem calor.
E ninguém compete por coisa alguma.

De certa forma, não há muitos — há apenas Um.
E esse Um tem muitas partes, mas todas são do mesmo Um.
Como as gotas do oceano.

Começas a perceber porque te pedi que não tentasses compreender este lugar, não é?

Essas partes seguem experiências distintas, mas em simbiose perfeita.
Em equilíbrio absoluto.
Sabendo sempre de onde vêm e para onde vão.
Em constante êxtase criativo.

Saboreiam o entusiasmo alegre de Ser.
Não têm qualquer noção de expectativa ou julgamento.
Tudo o que os move é o Amor de Ser.

(Nem vamos começar a falar de Amor agora…
Este é um Amor que só se pode sentir na harmonia da Verdade.
É Amor do mais puro que possas conceber — e por agora, basta saber isso.)

Talvez um lugar assim te pareça difícil de imaginar…
Ou até, quem sabe, aborrecido de tão perfeito que é.

Mas queria apenas dar-te uma espreitadela.
Só para sentires um pouco da sua magia.

Santa Maria – Ilha da Inteireza Divina

 Santa Maria – Ilha da Inteireza Divina

Existe uma terra que contém todos os começos.

A ilha mãe, primogénita do mar,

o seu solo sussurra origem,

as suas águas cantam retorno.

Aqui, nada falta.

Aqui, cada fio é abraçado.

Santa Maria carrega o pulso de um círculo completo,

onde a separação se dissolve no abraço.

Vem.

Deixa que os teus fragmentos caiam nos braços dela.

Deixe a que a tua história se enrole na sua canção.

Aqui, tu lembrar-te-ás de que sempre foste completo.

O que Vive Aqui Além da Totalidade

🌊 O berço das origens

Santa Maria é a raiz antiga — a ilha onde a cadeia começa, a mãe do arquipélago. A sua vibração é de lembrança: todos os caminhos voltam em espiral à fonte.

☀️ O Abraço Divino

Ela carrega uma suavidade que não é fraqueza, mas inclusividade. Na sua presença, nada é exilado — luz e sombra, alegria e tristeza, tudo está entrelaçado no seu tecido.

🌺 O Útero da Totalidade

Aqui, a parte de ti que ainda acredita estar quebrada vem descansar. Cada pedaço encontra o seu lugar, cada ferida é beijada em silêncio. Ela ensina que a plenitude não é conquistada — ela é revelada.

Aqui, é seguro seres completo.

Aqui, é seguro seres abraçado.

Aqui, é seguro seres inteiro.

Bem-vind@ à Ilha onde a Plenitude tem o rosto do Divino.

Tomar – Terra da Alquimia Mística

 Tomar – Terra da Alquimia Mística

Há uma terra onde a pedra se lembra,

onde os rios sussurram segredos ao céu,

e o sopro dos cavaleiros ainda paira nas paredes.

Aqui, os símbolos não são decoração —

são portas vivas.

Aqui, a história não é passado —

é um caldeirão de presença,

transformando sombra em luz,

forma em essência.

Vem.

Deixa que o labirinto te guie para dentro.

Deixa que o silêncio dos antigos claustros

desperte o teu ouro escondido.

Aqui, lelbrar-te-ás de que és tanto um recipiente quanto uma chama.

O que Vive Aqui Para lá das Paredes

🜃 A Alquimia da Quietude

Tomar não é ruidosa com os seus mistérios. Eles estão escondidos à vista de todos — numa pedra esculpida, num arco sombreado, no silêncio entre os cânticos. A alquimia acontece aqui não pela força, mas pela Presença que transmuta o que está oculto.

⚔️ Os Cavaleiros Silenciosos

Os Guardiões Templários desta terra não são meros ecos do passado. A sua vigília continua, não como soldados, mas como guardiões dos limiares. Eles convidam-te a ficar desarmado diante do teu próprio coração e a lembrares-te de que a coragem é a alquimia do medo transformado em confiança.

🜁 O Caldeirão Interior

Dentro de ti, tal como dentro de Tomar, existe um recipiente onde os elementos se encontram: a terra do corpo, a água dos sentimentos, o fogo do espírito, o ar da respiração. Neste recipiente, a separação derrete-se e o Místico revela-se como nada mais — e nada menos — do que a Totalidade encarnada.

Aqui estás seguro para transmutar.

Aqui estás seguro para entregar o teu chumbo ao ouro.

Aqui estás seguro para ser a própria alquimia.

Bem-vind@ à Terra onde o Mistério se torna Presença,

e a Presença se torna Alquimia.

Graciosa – Ilha da Quietude Graciosa

 Graciosa – Ilha da Quietude Graciosa

Há uma terra onde o silêncio não é ausência,

mas presença refinada em quietude.

Onde as colinas exalam suavidade,

e o vento repousa no colo da Graça.

Aqui, nada se apressa.

Aqui, nada insiste.

A ilha ensina-nos a relaxar,

a inclinarmo-nos para o pulso tranquilo sob todo o movimento.

Vem.

Deixa que a tua espiração encontre o seu próprio ritmo.

Deixa que a tua mente se dissolva em horizontes suaves.

Aqui, vais lembrar-te de que a simplicidade é sagrada.

O que Vive Aqui Além da Quietude

🍃 O Pulsar do Coração da Graça

A Graciosa emana uma frequência de compostura interior — uma atmosfera onde a turbulência se dissolve e o que resta é a suavidade. Ela é um lago tranquilo que reflete o céu, ensinando que a plenitude não precisa de ruído para ser real.

🌸 A respiração Suave da Renovação

A própria ilha sente-se como uma pausa, uma vírgula na frase da tua jornada. Descansa aqui e o teu corpo lembrar-se-á do ritmo natural — as tuas células sintonizar-se-ão com o ritmo do suficiente.

🌿 A Quietude Interior

Nesta terra, a parte de ti que anseia por descanso não tem mais vergonha de desacelerar. Aqui, fazer uma pausa não é preguiça — é o verdadeiro alinhamento da Graça.

Aqui, é seguro ficar sem pressa.

Aqui, é seguro seres simples.

Aqui, é seguro ficar quieto.

Bem-vind@ à ilha onde a Graça respira como quietude.