Art by Norman E. Masters
This day has a secret name to give you. Your eminence precedes you, and has called upon the dawn to reveal yourself as its path of light. Wait patiently before the daybreak, and be told where to find this repute. If you do not Say yourself, God cannot speak you yet. Each day must be Her expression in you, or this talking of the mind will be the gossip of frivolous ghosts.
The staggering thing about this world's reality, is that the sunrise comes up only for you, nobody else. We get rayed into existence as a hologram of everything there is. This is why life goes to our head to seek itself first. It seeks the flower without awareness of the root. In doing this, the heart of the All gets mislaid again.
God's secret name runs away from all attempts to determine it. Only the heart searching, of one who does not define himself, can elucidate its impossible sound. Truth is, the very living of you, is the possibility of its expression. We create the sound of this name by falling in love with an unfamiliar tongue, ready to speak the mystery, and not be misled by a foreign self we have taken to be our language.
How you live this day, will translate this name, or safe-keep it in the valley of the soul, for a future quickening of this time you have. Each moment offers you the chance to interpret yourself as the one who would be both oracle, and orator. There is a way of speaking yourself into the world that arises not from the mouth but from a poem God writes in Her own heart, in constant praise of your uttering. This enunciation of Her love letters is the real scripture. It is never written, only whispered from one lover to an other, as a password that opens the heart to the parable of One in many.
The Beloved has sown you into many seeds. As a gardener would scatter her store of wealth, She has planted Herself in the field of this world, as an intonation of Her name. We may believe the rose and the corn, the stone and the soil, to be divisible commodities for this garden, yet they are all syllables of the one mantra.
It is like this. If you split any stone, you will see that it has a heart of different colors. All stones grow inwards to their real nature. A fish may be colorful on the outside, but its heart is the color of water. Water wears the stone of self away to find its true name.
Go out into the morning of your world, and hear the incantation of your name in the cry of the seagull and the newborn child. Within the hum of the city traffic there is a reverberation beneath that noise, that has been speaking before the world awoke in you. It is the echo of your name resounding in every sound.
The heart thunders in silence. Little girls fall in love with little boys and tell their names to the moon. The wind whispers in the tree of love, singing: Kiss me and I will show you, and tell you of this name of yours; but first lay down in the meadow and be my body. First listen to the song of my longing to speak. Open your mouth and taste my promise of you...
Everyone has a secret name they say of themselves. Listen to the love that expounds your life, and disclose that original sound as the Word of your soul this day. Keep chanting your hymn until the world answers to its call. Then say this love to yourself as you would your only prayer.
Seek for the One who delights to uncover your secrets, and let go the garments that fear has patched in dreams. She shall weave your soul upon a loom of light, and shall name you for love, that your love be revealed.