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, January 18, 2019

All in

Love is
my funeral pyre
Where I have laid my living body.

All the false notions
of myself
That once caused fear, pain,
Have turned to ash as I neared God.

It is an odd thing
The more one invests in one’s self
The more one loses one’s self

Jesus warned us
And Hafiz too
And Buddha three

This thing called self can be a problem
All those efforts to define
To protect
To satisfy and pleasure

Can leave us struggling
And sad

Unsure of our worth
Or too sure of our worth
Unable to draw boundaries
Or isolated behind emotional walls of our own making


This search for self takes place
In the context of Love
In the context of God (who is love)

It is the divine paradox
That the more we let go of the self and seek God
The more we find our self
The more we open ourselves to Love, and the less we seek to protect and exclude
The freer we are from fear and hate

The more we give the more we get
The more we die, the more we find life

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