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 💙
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