The meaning that precedes birth
follows living to death.
Somewhere, in each person,
there is a meaning
that needs to receive its purpose.
To find one's purpose
discover what it isn't.
And after finding its meaning,
find the stillness within
that accepts change.
Design describes our journey
by substantiating ourselves,
to ourselves.
By giving our reality substance,
design guides our efforts
bringing balance
to that which is both real
and not real.
* * *
A meaning before birth, a thread unwound,
It follows through the years, through life, through sound.
A whisper in the quiet, a call unseen,
In each soul, a purpose, yet to be gleaned.
To know what you are, first know what you’re not.
In the space between, a shift is caught—
A turning point, a moment of grace,
Where purpose stirs, finds its rightful place.
Stillness is the soil where change may grow,
A seed within, where we learn to know—
Not just the form, but the breath within,
Where design and destiny begin.
We build with substance, we shape the void.
Balancing the real and the dreamed, destroyed.
By time and tides, yet constant still,
Guided by the quiet pulse of will.
Our journey carved, yet undefined,
By hands that seek and hearts that find—
A design that flows between the lines,
A map of self, where purpose shines.
* * *
In a quiet town nestled by a vast forest, there lived a young artist named Mara. She spent her days sketching shapes and colors, hoping to uncover something deeper within her creations. She often wandered the woods in search of inspiration, but what she truly sought was elusive. It wasn't just beauty or a moment of clarity she yearned for—it was something more profound. A sense of meaning.
One day, while walking beyond the dense woods, she came across a weathered vista of stone with intricate carvings. Intrigued, she knelt down and traced her fingers over the patterns. The symbols seemed to pulse with an energy that Mara couldn’t quite explain.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered to the stone, her breath quiet against the murmuring wind.
In the silence that followed, something unexpected happened. The air around her seemed to shift, and she felt as though the world had become both still and alive all at once. The weight of the all the symbols, of her questions, of her life—it all felt simultaneously heavy and light.
And then, an answer came—not in words, but in a sensation, as if a voice spoke directly to her heart. The meaning that precedes birth follows into the living years into death. Somewhere, in each person, there is a meaning that needs to receive its purpose.
Mara stood still, her fingers still touching the stone. The message was simple, but it was enough to stir something deep within her. She didn’t know yet what it meant, but she felt it was a sign. She was on the right path.
In the days that followed, Mara pondered what she had felt that day, trying to understand the message that seemed to follow her. Slowly, she realized: she had been searching for meaning, but in doing so, she had never asked herself what meaning was not. She had spent years trying to fill the blank canvas of her life with others’ expectations, with the clutter of what she thought she was supposed to be.
It wasn’t until she allowed herself to consider what she wasn’t that she could begin to see herself more clearly. She wasn’t just an artist struggling for recognition, nor a woman living only to please others. No, Mara realized she was someone who had been so caught up in ideas of identity that she had forgotten to explore the essence of simply being.
The stillness she had sought for so long arrived one evening, when she sat before a blank page, not to create, but to simply be present with the act of living. She didn’t pick up a pencil, didn’t sketch, didn’t strive for perfection. She simply breathed, listening to the rhythm of her own existence.
In that stillness, a shift occurred. She understood that purpose was not a destination but a journey—a continuous unfolding. To design, she had to first understand the emptiness that existed before creation. And from that emptiness, the true balance of her life could take form. Design wasn’t just about shaping something into existence; it was about allowing something to arise from the depths of the soul, grounded in stillness and patience.
In time, Mara’s art began to reflect this newfound wisdom. Her work was no longer about filling empty spaces with vibrant colors for the sake of beauty. It became about balance—about weaving together the contrasts between reality and imagination, between what was known and unknown, between form and formlessness. Every piece she created told the story of her journey, of her search for meaning, and of her acceptance of the natural flow of change.
Mara had learned to listen to the subtle whispers of life and had found the stillness within herself to accept whatever came next. Through her design, she had begun to substantiate her reality, creating a tangible form of the intangible—guiding others to their own understanding, showing them that meaning isn’t something we find. It’s something that finds us when we stop striving and start listening.
And in that acceptance, in that stillness, Mara found her purpose—not in what she could create, but in what she had already become.
* * *
In the village of Veridia, nestled between mist-covered hills and ancient oaks, there lived a young weaver named Elira. Her fingers, delicate yet skilled, danced across looms of linen and wool, crafting tapestries that told stories of times long forgotten. But for all her talent, there was an emptiness within her, a thread that pulled at her heart without explanation. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her life was more than the art she created, more than the quiet rhythm of her days.
One evening, after a long day of weaving, Elira sat by the fire, her hands still, her mind wandering. She gazed into the flames, watching the way the light flickered and swirled, like threads in a tapestry not yet woven. What is the purpose of all this? she thought, her eyes narrowing in thought. Am I just the weaver of stories, or is there something more waiting for me?
It was then she heard a voice, soft and distant, like a whisper carried on the wind. It was a call she could not place, a call she had always known but never truly listened to. "You must follow the thread," it said.
Elira’s heart skipped a beat. Follow the thread? She had always understood her craft, but this was different. This was a deeper call, one that pulled at the very fabric of her being. She stood, her feet moving on their own, as though her body knew where to go before her mind could catch up. The voice guided her through the darkened village and out into the forest, where the trees seemed to part, allowing her to pass through.
Hours passed in a haze, and yet Elira didn’t tire. The thread pulled at her, a force beyond time, beyond understanding. She felt it in her bones, in the way the wind whispered secrets in her ears, in the stillness that settled around her. The world seemed to shift, and before she knew it, she had reached a clearing.
At the center stood an ancient round stone circle, worn smooth by centuries of touch. The air hummed with energy, as if the earth itself was alive with purpose. Elira stepped closer, her heart racing. Floating in the middle of the stone’s circle was a single, delicate thread, glowing softly beneath the moonlight. It shimmered, moving with a life of its own.
The voice spoke again, clearer now. "This is the thread of your purpose, Elira. It has always been with you, guiding you through every decision, every moment of doubt. To understand it, you must first understand what it is not."
Elira knelt before the thread, her fingertips grazing its surface. She closed her eyes, and in the stillness, she felt a deep shift inside her. She saw her life, all the moments she had thought were meaningless—the quiet days spent alone, the small acts of kindness, the moments of doubt—and she understood. These were not mistakes, nor distractions. They were part of the design, shaping the woman she was becoming.
She wasn’t just a weaver of cloth. She was a weaver of lives, of connections, of moments. Her art was not just what she created, but what she helped others create within themselves. The thread that had always called to her was not a thing of the past, but a living, breathing part of her future. It was her will, her heart, her purpose, waiting to be acknowledged.
In that moment of clarity, the thread in the stone’s circle pulsed with light, and Elira’s hands moved as if they had been guided by a force greater than her own. She began to weave, not with cloth, but with the very essence of herself. Each pass of the thread spoke to her soul, and she understood: the work she had been doing all her life, the quiet search for meaning, was just the beginning.
She wove through time, through moments yet to come, carving pathways where none had existed before. The tapestry of her life unfolded before her, each line leading her closer to who she was meant to be. And as she wove, she saw the threads of others’ lives intertwining with hers, a pattern of purpose that was far greater than she had ever imagined.
The thread glowed brighter, and the circle dissolved into the dawn light. Elira stood alone, but she was not the same. She had found her purpose, not as an artist, not as a dreamer, but as a creator—of not just art, but of lives, of destinies, of connections that would ripple through time.
And so, she returned to the village, her heart full, her hands steady, ready to weave not just fabric, but a new story for herself—and for the world.
* * *
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.
