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, April 28, 2013

Kiss the Joy? or "What me worry?"

this morning I woke
not early
not late

I seem to be a creature of habit lately
and in the dull grey
of an overcast morning
my mind
thought about though things past
things present

but mostly about things future

I thought about this morning
do I get up now
or later
feed the horses early, or wait till its light

and what about worship
what time do I want to drive down to that
quaint place
where our little outpost of the kingdom 
sometimes meets

and what will I do this afternoon?
and so my mind wandered
through the day 
the week
the months
the years ahead

and so I speculated
and so plotted and worried
I was wound up in the tendrils of 
so many
and so many "what ifs"
that I could barely breathe
and my future
closed in around me
leaving me feeling empty

and in that moment I knew
that it was time to
in this moment
in this day
it was time to breathe

it was time to 
smell, and feel and taste
this moment
to live it fully

it was time to 
"kiss the joy" (Blake)

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sun rise.

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