speak the unspoken
without speaking it
weave the unwoven
without weaving it
cleave the uncloven
without cleaving it
break the unbroken
without breaking it
to do what isn’t done
without doing it
is mastery of subtlety
of incipient artistry
The unwritten language of fine intricate comprehension,
an urge from the inside to act in the proper manner,
to respond with the appropriate etiquette,
without being told,
not allowing the relevant parties to feel discomfort,
is a chivalry of immeasurable proportions,
a foresight, insight, piercing light,
privy to few.
Only someone equally as conscious will be able to see when it is being practised.
a lustful smile buried beneath the veil of reservation,
dignified bashfulness, not meekness,
a leap to attend to a matter before it occurs,
assisting and being of service before the service is called for,
steering danger away, even if it were to prevent trivial things,
workings of subtlety the lions of the inner participate in.
We simply just don’t care about subtlety any more, so we can’t see it at work.
Of the most ingratitude I see is the subtlety towards being.
Just to be.
What a marvellous blessing it is to be kept from seeing, feeling, knowing everything.
Being oblivious and not conscious to every waking thing is a gift, so subtle from God but we don’t recognise it. Imagine, being able to be so alert, not a single thing occurs except it busies your mind, your heart, your soul with reflection, contemplation, and engagement with trying to understand it. What a condition to be afflicted with, we’d be able to get nothing done, too busy with even the most trivial of matters.
To this subtlety we remain unaware, and lucky for that. But it’s there, whether you care to acknowledge God, or reserve it to the workings of nature, I’m not preaching, I’m trying to raise awareness to the gifts you’re given, right under your nose.
Subtlety, sometimes of a strangers kindness of seeing pain in your eyes, and stepping aside to allow you a pass, even if it is you that has wronged them.
Subtlety of the oft forgiving mechanisms of our body. We abuse with drugs, alcohol, worse even – food and yet, it keeps on forgiving. Even when we damage it to the point of needing medical assistance, if we return to mend it and do well by it, a self healing mechanism is always there for us in it.
The subtlety of love of a child, unconditional, rage be our megaphone, anger or angst be our way, again, the subtlety of their forgiving nature and utter attachment to you, their long to belong to you, looking past your faults because you share blood, what is this beauty, this subtle soft thing.
I can go on and on…. let that roll in your soul for a day or two, pay attention to subtle things people do, from remembering the coffee you like, to the door opening of a stranger, to the silence of a spouse when you trespass the lines of decency, to the blanket of the night which assures you, there’s yet subtlety during the nights canvas to comfort you in, yet subtlety at dawn’s thread of light to caress you to waking and on and on.