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, February 4, 2018

that deep place

“And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.”
                             Gerard Manley Hopkins

It seems as though there are too many ends
Too many moments when it all winds down
When things slowly fade
In to nothing


Our moral compass
Spins hopelessly

Our mind slows
Our body erodes

We are spent

And yet
There at that deep place
Where we are who we are

Ending is beginning

For every death there is a birth
For every end there is a beginning
For every things that goes, something comes

Accepting the changes
Letting go of the past
Opens our heart, our mind our body
To the “new thing”

And we are every warmed and enlivened
By the warm breath

of Love

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