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

Tuesday, January 4, 2022

The cry of the heart

When you breathe into the pain of your losses, you detect the presence of a smoldering ember you thought had been snuffed out years ago.  But there it is, fragrant and warm.  If you blew on it now it would bursting into flame.  Longing.  Longing for God.

          Mirabai Starr



our lives are filled with losses

some are superficial

the pain is glancing and quickly goes


some losses are more profound

a lost love

a lost dream

a lost career


the pain of these losses linger

and we carry their weight with us

left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe


doors are closed, but not locked

and other doors open

and we move on


but some losses

seem to devour us

the loss of hope

the loss of God


our disappointment burns

and we are reduced

to embers





we are still breathing

electricity still sparkles through our brain

our heart still beats


but the world is reduced to our losses

and thus our pain


wretched ones that we are, who can deliver us?!


we should not bother to look outside our own soul for the answer

there is no leader out there

no teacher, no guide

no lover


who can reignite us


only the wind

only the breath of the Spirit

blowing through our soul


only the fire of divine love



can bring us back to life

new creations


we do not need to go on a pilgrimage

to find the answer

it lies within

in the cry of our heart



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