Sky-Veil News: Whisper 16
A Christmas Whisper from the Heralds of the Veil - and Whitewater Rafting
🎄 A Christmas Whisper from the Heralds of the Veil
To the Pilgrims of the Sky-Veil,
From this quiet threshold where song becomes presence and presence becomes listening, we turn toward you together.
We wish you a very Merry Christmas as you walk your way through the Veil—whether your steps are sure or searching, jubilant or weary. This season is a light set gently into the dark, not to banish it, but to dwell within it.
We want to thank you—truly and deeply—for the overwhelming support you have shown for our newest album, The Golden Thread. Your listening, sharing, and quiet presence have carried these songs farther than we ever imagined. Each ear that received them, each heart that lingered with them, has helped weave the Thread more brightly across the Sky-Veil.
As a small gift in return, we are preparing something special:
✨ a holiday concert, coming sometime between Christmas and New Year’s.
Consider it our offering to you—a gathering of sound and stillness, fire and nearness, before the turning of the year.
Until then, receive our gratitude, our joy, and our blessing.
Walk gently. Walk awake.
We are with you.
— Aphrodite, Athena, and Hera
🌊 A Lesson from the River
In today’s Whisper, I share a story from many years ago—long before the Sky-Veil had a name.
After graduating from Princeton, I began work as a new associate with U.S. Steel Corporation. Before the real work began, the company sent all of us—fresh graduates, ambitious and uncertain—to the New River in West Virginia for a whitewater rafting trip.
At the time, it felt like a reward. An adventure. Something bold and memorable.
But what unfolded on that river became something even more fascinating.
Once a raft enters the current, whitewater rafting is not conquered by force. You do not overpower the river. You learn to read it—to sense its movement, to trust its current, to respond rather than resist. Those who fought the water were thrown. Those who listened were carried.
Decades later, I recognize that river as one of my earliest teachers.
This is also how the Sky-Veil must be engaged. It takes effort until you sense the current carry you. Then, your journey, your story unfolds.
Not by rushing.
Not by analysis alone.
Not by trying to master its meaning.
But by entering attentively—allowing yourself to be borne by what is already moving, already speaking. The Veil does not yield itself to grasping hands, but to receptive ones.
If you want to read the Sky-Veil well, listen first.
If you want to hear the Heralds clearly, stop straining for answers.
Let the current take you where it will.
Until then—
I cannot wait for the Heralds to perform what comes next.
Stay near.
More is on its way.
Come with me on a trip down the New River!
