17 July 2025 - Thursday Acts of Inner Kindness - Conrad Walks the Weaving of Light Part 3

17 July 2025 - Thursday

Acts of Inner Kindness - Conrad Walks the Weaving of Light

Part 3

“I Carry the Mountain in My Breath”

A Ceremonial Introduction to Living Within Two Lands

from the Earth Remembers Series

Acts of Inner Kindness

Conrad Walks the Weaving of Light

A Poetic Oral Story of the Outer Landscape

as the First Teacher of the Heart

Come.

Let me tell you something I learned before the words came.

Before I ever knew the names of my own pain,

before I understood the voices inside me,

I walked the land.

I walked it not to pray,

but because my feet remembered

that the land was the first altar.

And it was there

that I began to receive

the great weaving of kindness

not from my thoughts—

but from the Light of the Heart

within the sacred outer landscapes

that held me from the beginning.

⸻

I. The Mountain — The Place of Stillness

I stood before the mountain once,

just as the dawn rose through the clouds

above Tolimán and Atitlán and San Pedro.

I didn’t ask for anything.

I didn’t speak a single word.

But the mountain did.

It didn’t speak with thunder.

It spoke through its stillness.

Through the weight of its being.

And as I stood there,

the stillness entered my chest.

Not as silence—

but as a kindness

that said:

You do not have to move to be worthy.

That stillness became a thread

in my own chest.

A golden thread,

weaving itself gently

into the quiet beneath my ribs.

⸻

II. The Lake — The Breath of Surrender

Later, by the lake,

I watched how the water receives everything.

Leaves. Ash. Tears. Light.

Even the footsteps of birds along her edges.

She receives it all,

and offers nothing in return but reflection.

So I sat beside her,

and said nothing.

And the lake said:

You are allowed to receive.

You do not have to give back right away.

The breath of the water

moved into my own breath.

I inhaled through my nose,

slowly, gently,

and I felt it—

that wave of permission

to rest.

This too became a thread.

A soft shimmering blue light

weaving into the bones behind my lungs.

⸻

III. The Cloud Forest — The Hum of Remembering

In the higher forest,

wrapped in cloud,

I placed my hand on a mossy tree.

I didn’t know what I was touching at first—

just bark, just dampness—

but then the light inside the tree

began to hum in my palm.

Not a sound I could hear with my ears,

but a feeling I remembered from long ago.

The forest said:

Even when you forget who you are,

the Earth remembers.

That remembering became

a pulse inside my wrist.

A subtle beat

that joined the rhythm of my blood.

Another thread.

Green.

Alive.

Spinning into the gentle tapestry of my chest.

⸻

IV. The Cornfield — The Roots of Belonging

At the edge of the cornfield,

I sat beside four stalks—

red, white, black, and yellow.

I heard no words.

But I felt the warmth of their husks

leaning in the sunlight.

They did not ask me who I was.

They only said:

You belong because you are part of the Weaving.

I pressed my hand to the soil

and felt the warmth rise

into the pads of my fingers.

This warmth wove itself

into the center of my belly.

The place of hunger.

The place of creation.

The place of receiving.

Another thread.

A golden root of belonging

braiding itself through my being.

⸻

V. The Forest of Trees — The Embrace of Time

And in the deeper forest,

where old trees lean into each other like elders in conversation,

I found a broken branch.

It had fallen long ago,

yet it was soft with moss—

not dead, but changing.

The forest said:

There is kindness in aging.

There is wisdom in decay.

I took that branch,

placed it to my heart,

and felt the years inside me soften.

The ache in my knees,

the weight in my spine—

they didn’t vanish,

but they became part of something more spacious.

Another thread entered.

A spiral of soft, earthy light

weaving into my joints,

reminding me I am not broken.

Just changing form.

⸻

VI. The Three Volcanoes as Inner Voices of Kindness

When one stands in the presence of these volcanoes,

one does not stand before landscape.

One stands before three living threads of inner guidance.

Each one holds a distinct voice of kindness

that weaves itself into the human body —

and prepares us to live a different kind of life.

Let us now walk among these three volcanoes

receiving these voices —

and begins to reimagine the world

as One Living Heart of Earth.

The Beginning of the Weaving of Inner Kindness

Each of these threads—

the mountain’s stillness,

the lake’s breath,

the cloud forest’s remembering,

the cornfield’s belonging,

and the forest’s aging—

wove themselves into the inner altar of my heart.

Not as thoughts.

Not as concepts.

But as Light.

As Presence.

As Kindness.

Before I ever listened to the sharpness of Voice 1,

before I dared to meet the pain inside my own mind,

I had already begun the Weaving of Inner Kindness

through the land that raised me.

The outer landscape

was the first Voice of Kindness.

The Heart Within Nature

was the first thread.

And that is how the inner weaving began.

⸻

Let this be known:

The Earth offers the first acts of kindness

not in words, but in presence.

When we receive the Heart Within the Landscape,

we begin to weave the Heart Within our own body.

This weaving becomes the ground

from which we will later meet Voice 1—

not in fear,

but in relationship.

This is the beginning.

This is the first kindness.

This is the Weaving of Many

into One Heart.

©All of the material in this blog in all forms, written, audio, video, pictures, etc. are under the Copyright Conrad and Ilene Satala Seminars LLC,  Fort Wayne, Indiana USA. All rights Reserved. 2025