Outside of function and purpose
there is meaning.
Inside each purpose
there is mind.
Outside of each thing
there is a meaning that receives,
has purpose
and understands.
All thinking has meaning
filling around still something.
As a creator be happy with thoughts and images
but never forget meaning.
* * *
Outside of purpose, meaning unfolds,
Where thought is not bound, but freely it molds.
Beyond the task, beyond the deed,
A quiet essence plants the seed.
Inside the purpose, the mind is plain,
Simple and true, it walks the mundane.
Yet outside it stirs, with a knowing embrace,
A meaning unseen in the stillness of space.
In every thought, in each image cast,
There lies a depth that will ever last.
Beyond the form, beyond the face,
A silent understanding fills empty space.
Creator, rejoice in the images you weave,
In the thoughts you shape and the worlds you conceive.
But remember, beneath all that takes flight,
Meaning endures in the silence of night.
* * *
In a small, quiet village tucked between two mountains, there was a painter named Elias. His life was simple: he woke with the sun, painted for hours, then sat by the river to watch the sky change colors. People in the village often wondered about Elias, for while his paintings were beautiful, they held a certain mystery that none could quite explain. There was something beyond the brushstrokes, something that lingered in the air, like a whisper you could almost hear, but not quite.
One afternoon, as Elias worked on a canvas of a field in bloom, a young boy named Luca approached him. Luca had often watched Elias paint from a distance, fascinated his strokes seemed to dance, as if the world itself was alive on the canvas.
“What do you think about when you paint?” Luca asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.
Elias paused, brush hovering above the canvas, and turned toward the boy. His eyes were soft, filled with years of quiet contemplation.
“I think about meaning,” Elias replied. “But not the meaning you find in the things themselves.”
Luca frowned. “What do you mean? Isn’t meaning just… in the things?”
“No,” Elias smiled gently. “If you look only at the surface—at the purpose, at the shape, at the form—you miss what’s beneath. Every tree, every flower, every cloud… they have a purpose, yes, but they also carry something deeper. Meaning doesn’t live inside them; it surrounds them, like air. It fills the space between them, in the moments when nothing is moving, when stillness becomes everything.”
Luca didn’t understand. He looked down at the field Elias had painted. It was beautiful, yes, but to him it was just a picture of nature—nothing more, nothing less.
“Let me show you,” Elias said, stepping aside from the canvas. “Come, sit with me.”
They sat together by the river, watching the water flow slowly over the stones. The sun was beginning to dip behind the mountains, casting long shadows over the land.
“What do you see?” Elias asked.
Luca squinted at the river, the sky reflecting in its surface. “I see water. And the mountains. The trees on the far side.”
“Yes,” Elias nodded, “but what does it mean?”
Luca thought for a moment. “It means… nature, and life?”
Elias smiled. “Yes, but it’s more than that. The meaning isn’t in the water or the mountains themselves—it’s in what they make you feel, what they evoke inside you. You see, Luca, the purpose of a tree is to grow, the purpose of a river is to flow, but meaning is something more. It’s the stillness that fills the space between what we see. It’s the way everything connects when we stop thinking just about purpose.”
Luca looked at the river again, as though seeing it for the first time. The water was no longer just water; it reflected the sky, the mountains, the passing of time. It was a dance of elements, a story told in the quiet hum of nature. He felt something stir in his chest, a warmth that wasn’t just from the sun.
“So, when you paint,” Luca asked softly, “you paint the meaning?”
Elias nodded. “I paint the space between the things. The pause between thoughts. The quiet understanding that there is something more, even when nothing is moving. As a creator, you can focus on purpose, yes, but never forget that the meaning—the stillness—holds it all together.”
Luca sat in silence, letting the words settle into his heart. And for the first time, he understood. Meaning wasn’t just in the colors or the shapes; it was in the moments when everything seemed to stop, when time itself held its breath.
From that day on, Luca’s world seemed fuller. He no longer rushed to understand everything. Instead, he paused, listened, and felt the spaces between things—the meaning that surrounded them, waiting to be noticed.
And in those moments, he found a quiet joy.
* * *
The world was quiet. Outside, the sun dipped behind the distant hills, casting long shadows that stretched across the grass. Emma sat on the porch of the small cottage she’d built, watching the last of the day's light fade. She'd been here for weeks now, alone with her thoughts, a choice she'd made after years of chasing after purpose.
She remembered the days before—busy, always moving from one task to the next, driven by the idea that meaning could only be found in action. She’d been a writer, a mother, a teacher—each role carved into her, defining her in ways she never had a chance to question. There was always a to-do list, a demand for attention, and the suffocating weight of expectation. But as time passed, the urgency began to wear off, and the weight became unbearable. So, she left.
Now, she was here. Alone. A cottage by a stream. No deadlines. No roles. Just the rhythm of the wind, the sway of trees, and the quiet murmur of her thoughts.
In the stillness, something unexpected began to stir.
She had come to think of it as "the knowing." It wasn't a voice, but more like an awareness, a gentle reminder that meaning wasn't always tied to what you did, to what you accomplished. It wasn’t in the words she wrote or the lessons she taught. It existed in the moments between—the quiet spaces where thought didn't grasp and where the world, untouched, could simply be.
That afternoon, as she sat in her favorite chair by the window, Emma thought about how much time she’d spent looking for answers. How much of her life had been shaped by the belief that purpose had to be sought and achieved. But out here, in the stillness, she had started to understand. Meaning wasn’t something that could be carved into being through effort or intention. It was something that unfolded, effortlessly, in the spaces between the words and the actions. In the silence that filled the gaps.
She smiled to herself, feeling a subtle shift in her chest. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly free. It wasn’t the absence of purpose that had brought her peace, but rather the discovery that purpose, in its purest form, could exist without attachment. It was in the quiet. It was in the act of being.
She closed her eyes, letting the cool evening breeze brush against her face. There was a knowing in the air, a silent understanding that filled the empty space around her. A deep, timeless truth, not bound by task or label. It was simply there.
And in that moment, Emma knew meaning had never been something to find. It had always been something to receive, to rest within, to let unfold.
* * *
Designing the gap between divine omniscience
and mortal awareness.
Find your truth. Know your mind. Follow your heart. Love eternal will not be denied. Discernment is an integral part of self-mastery. You may share this post on a non-commercial basis, the author and URL to be included. All rights reserved. Copyright © 2025 C.G. Garant.
