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

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Broken down, broken open

I feel
like a man of sorrows
well too acquainted with grief

I think of my parents
gone way to soon, my tall strong dad with his sense of humor
my short active mother
that force of nature who just made things happen
and I sorrow over their absence
the fact that they never got to meet
smiling, laughing Mara
their great granddaughter

I think of friends
struggling with cancer
or hurt

I think of people hurt
by my words
or my actioins
I see their faces
sometimes they wake me up at night
and I am drenched with regrets

I think of mistakes made
things done
or left undone
and my heart breaks
and I suffer

and yet I know 
that all God's children
even that child
the one who came
have some measure of sorrow
and somtimes
when broken down with sorrow
especially when that sorrow is shared
I find myself broken open
to new levels of love
and compassion
and connection
ah love
the precious ointment 
that slowly
and gently heals our hearts
and enables our suffering
to ever so slowly
and gradually
as healing

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