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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



Friday, December 13, 2013

The thing about the baby

This is the irrational season, when love blooms bright and wild! Had Mary been filled with reason, there’d have been no room for the child
                                                                Madeleine L’Engle

___________________________________________________

‘Tis the season to be….
Jolly?
Happy?
Reflective?

Ah, ‘tis the season to be confused
Totally

Seriously
Confused

there is little or nothing
in this birth
this child
which makes sense
which is rational

not in the birth
not in the life
not in the death

and why does such irrationality persist?
man and the sacred in one child
power and generosity
wisdom and simplicity
hate and love
death and life

in our world of dualism
and duels
there is no room for such foolishness
no room for such contradictions

the human cannot contain the sacred
one cannot be wholly divine and wholly human
one cannot see that which one should abhor
and accept
one cannot see those steep in failure and sin
and love
one cannot create life
through death

and yet
this is the irrational season
when duality is challenged
threatened

we try to make it about dualism
and create wars on Christmas
and become entrenched and embittered

but in the end
in the beginning
it is all about
the
child

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