Welcome

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, May 10, 2025

Back to the Garden

His hands can shape through ours

And our sounds can somehow echo what God has ever

said…

 

His mind can shape through ours

Our bodies – and the earth – are like clay. Is

that not so, my

dear

                               St. Teresa of Avila

________________________________________

 

Ah dear children

“We are stardust, we are golden”

We are salt, we are yeast, we are light

 

Make no mistake

For all our fear, for all our greed

Despite our flawed belief

That life is an endevour we must undertake

Alone

 

We are instruments the Sacred

Clay to be formed

Vessels built to contain

Love

 

We are the hands and feet of God

We are the voice crying in the wilderness

“you are loved”

 

It is a matter of clinging

to Jesus as a vine clings to a branch

let the life force flow

through us

 

Separated

we become dry and brittle creatures

dry branches trodden underfoot

by the powers of the world

 

 

Detached we are

Tossed and blown

Deceived

 

But we can cling to God

Knowing that God clings to us

It is there, deep down

At the center of who we are

 

The presence, the spark,

the power and love

that permeates us

 

transforming

restoring the image

until love is the natural expression

of who we are

 

and we join the sun, and the moon

and the stars

and all creation

in proclaiming the glory

and love

of God

 

and we transform rather than

conform

 

bringing a little bit of heaven

to earth

leading the way back

to the garden

 


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