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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



Saturday, February 16, 2013

Wandering

It is a place of dryness
there is nothing
nothing
as far as i can see

it is a place
this desert
to wander

there is an odd comfort
in this emptiness
but also fear
fear that I will always wander
and that I will never again
find home


that I will forever be
homesick
separated from the One
from the presence
that gives me life


I feel naked
weak


and so the voice of the tempter comes
offering me
a way out of this wasteland


there is no need to wander
no need to go through
the search
the struggle

I am tempted to believe
that solutions
that are not solutions
will get me to the promised land
that there is a way
I can get there on my own


that I can medicate my way
control my way
manipulate my way

to where I want to go

when really it is the journey through the desert
where I struggle alone
but not alone

merely alone with God

and learn to trust
that still small voice within
that is the sacred
the Spirit
that gets me 
home

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