Art & Prophecy in words 

Art—from the Indo-Aryan noun/adjective rt—describes the continuous process of creation and the organization of the cosmos. Art is the process of shaping our reality. Attending to (a)rt deepens conscious awareness, integrates experience, heals, and reveals a meaningful path forward.

Nāḇā’ (nava) is ancient Hebrew for Prophecy. Nāḇā’ literally means to bubble up, like water from a well, or to spring forth, like the eruption of new life. It relates to poetry, arts, inspired speech, wisdom, and revelation. Prophecy captures that authentic, inspired flow that emerges as sudden awareness. We know it is inspired because it speaks to us in a voice that resonates. As we engage, we tap into what animates complex systems, creativity, intuition, and innovation. 

As a business student, I dreaded presentations. I clung nervously to my notes, citing the sentences I had written down the day before. With sweaty palms, I stumbled through my presentation, leaving my fellow students uninspired and putting them to sleep. It was at that time that I learned about the practice of listening to words of wisdom coming from within.

So, when the day came that I had to prepare for yet another presentation, this time I took a moment, became still and attentive, and asked in the listening space within, “How can I improve my presentation?” Immediately a thought came: Speak from your heart. I knew intuitively that by merely trusting, by acting on what I heard, something beneficial would happen.

It was the day of the presentation, and I had prepared myself as usual—with sentences on paper. But this time, when I walked up, I set aside the notes, brought attention to my heart, and stepped into the moment. I started to flow. Words came naturally. I could feel the group and made contact. You should have seen the change on the faces of my classmates. They realized something was different.

When finished, the professor complimented me and said: “This is how it is done.” I took my seat with a glow. A girl remarked, surprised: “What happened to you? I was listening and became so relaxed!” Something happens when we step into the moment from the inside out, with the heart. It injects life. It brings out our true voice, our art. When we are present to the moment, every word serves value.

Two Voices

There are typically two types of voices that speak to us daily. One is the critical voice, shouting things like: “That’s impossible! Who do you think you are? You are not good enough.”

The other is the voice of encouragement and possibility, saying: “It is possible; go for it. You can.”

Every time my mind is caught in negativity, staring into the void of impossibility, I recognize this as one part of the creative controversy. Understanding the presence of controversy between the two voices enables me to look into the other side—the voice of possibility, the Yes!

Critical voices are often easier to hear. We listen to them naturally, and they diminish our lives. To hear the other voice, we must make an effort: we must sit down, tune in, and listen. That listening leads to bloom. This is our ultimate purpose.

Let there be light.

According to ancient tradition, the first words God speaks are: “Let there be light.”
These primordial words in Genesis are anchored deep within. Each day, we face the duality of darkness and light. All we do in life pivots around the appearance of light in darkness.

Every day, we seek to spark awareness, understanding, meaning. To overcome the dark.

We live in that space where we feel the tension between what is seen and what is unseen.
In reaching out, we learn to look for light.

The future waits for our attention.
And as we seek vision for what is to come, we speak again those ancient words:
“Let there be light.”

Where is my passport?

The bus taking me to the airport would pass by soon. And I was looking for my passport. Agitated, I ran around the house, checking every place I could think of. It seemed to have vanished! I was close to accepting that I would miss my flight, and I scolded myself. Then, as a last resort of desperation, I did what I often speak about but so easily forget to do for myself: I quieted my mind and, in that silence, I asked:
“Where is my passport?”

Something stirs in the heart when we ask sincerely; a thought came to me in a soft-spoken voice:
“In the pocket of your coat.”

Did I hear it correctly? Now I really became annoyed — it couldn’t be there. I had no memory of even going near my coat. A sense of resignation washed over me; it seemed certain now that I would miss my flight over something so trivial. I stormed over to my coat, if only to prove that it wasn’t there.

I reached into the pocket and… felt the hard cover of that familiar document. I pulled out my passport and smiled, sheepishly relieved.