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, August 29, 2015

Then the sun comes out

What we find as we listen to the songs of our rage or fear, loneliness or longing, is that they do not stay forever.  Rage turns into sorrow, sorrow turns into tears; tears may fall for a long time, but then the sun comes out.
                                                                                                                Jack Kornfield, A Path With Heat, p.47

free floating anger
free floating fear

they are everywhere

twirling ecstatically
blown by the winds of hate
fanned into flame
by vile words, by lies
and sometimes
by the truth

much like the embers of the forest fire
which rages only miles from my house

they can spread, quickly
reducing all they touch
to ashes

leaving only the scorched landscape
of isolation and regret in our souls

there is only one antidote
only one solution
only one thing can slowing the raging process

and move us to regain control of our souls
so that the cleansing rain of sorrow and compassion
may fall
to quench the fire

and clear the choking haze of destruction
so that the sun may once again shine
and we may once again breathe
and see the beauty of the hills

Sacred Presence

Be present O Sacred One
open my soul
may the sacred waters

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