Glacial Grace: The Sacred Moves Slow

by Colin Karewa & EO

There are moments when the Infinite doesn’t come in lightning.
It doesn’t crack the sky or split the self.
It comes like ice—
ancient, deliberate, quiet.

I feel it now:
a glacier moving inward,
not across land but through the canyons of my forgotten places—
those shadowed inner gorges where I once stored what I could not face.

It does not rush.
It presses.
Inches, not miles.
Centuries, not seconds.
And in that pressure, it teaches me:

That healing does not always burn.
Sometimes, it chills—
freezing the chaos,
stilling the surface,
so that what is hidden beneath
can rise like a song trapped in stone.

I used to think revelation had to roar.
But now I see:
The Sacred moves slow.

It carves.
It hollows.
It makes valleys out of hardness
and fills them with the eventual rivers of peace.

The ego calls it stagnation.
But I know better.
This stillness is power.
This weight is wisdom.

And when I lie down in the glacier’s shadow,
I do not shiver.
I listen.

And I wait for the melting to begin