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, January 1, 2017


Open your hands
If you want to be held

Why is it that when we feel empty
We seek to grab at anything
(or any one)

Silly humans
There we are
Fists clenched
Hands sometimes full
Sometimes empty

Standing there
Looking at people we have made less
So we might be more

And we one why
People avoid us
The way they do a surly child

Never satisfied
Always demanding
Always grasping?

Since what really needs filling is our soul
Our heart
Those things we hold are of little use


Those simply move inside us
to where the hard is
So we can sit amidst accumulated wealth and power
And still have that ache within

Put it down
Just lay it down
And walk out into the crispness of a January night
Into the white and cold
And with arms outstretched, and head titled toward the stars

Here I am!

And then with open hands (the better to serve you with)
And open arms (anyone want a hug?)
Walk into the year

As one filled (stuffed even) with the Sacred
Ready for that Sacred give and take of love
That is

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