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Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning



Thursday, September 3, 2015

This is the Way


I die, but this time more easily
So must I each day, each day.
It is the way, the way, the way.
                                Morton T. Kelsey, Adventures on the other Side of Silence, p. 285
________________________________

It seems the more I grasp
at life
the more I grasp power
and wealth,
the things this world says give life

the more I tightly hug to myself
even the way of comfort and ease

the more burdened I become
with fear
and need

but when I die
when I open my hands
releasing
when I open my heart
to whatever comes

when I walk through the day
the hour, the moment
without agenda

when I breathe
and accept the gifts of the day
the smell of the earth after a rain
the joy of new day dawning
the warmth of the sun on my face

when I see without
expectation
the one in front of me

when having died
to all that binds
and all that blinds

I can simply be
present and aware

I know
I know
I know

this is the way
the way, the way

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