"The mystics keep our union with God( The Divine) and all creation through music, art, and poetry, and reflections on nature."
- R. Rohr OSB
"Instructions for living a life.
Tell about it."
- Mary Oliver
Sometimes our narrow perspective taints
What we really see
Sometimes the ego surfaces and gets in the way
Of our continuing down the right path
Sometimes the reconnecting with spirits from the past
Affirm the grace of the original initial connection
Sometimes science is used to rationalize
That which needs to be left unexplainable
Sometimes we think we know God
We need to stop thinking and let go
Sometimes streams lead to rivers and rivers flow to the sea
We should join the leaves on the water and let ourselves drift and flow with the rivers
Sometimes some are blessed to realize that it is not too late
As our third act to the great play can help us make sense of all that went before
Sometimes completing that impossible climb up the mountain
The victory was not just for those we name but for our very own soul.
Sometimes it takes the grace of pure smiling innocence of an infant
to sanctify the universe's eternal spark within our own authentic spirit
Sometimes our own lack of wisdom is evidenced by insufficient words
And we need a poem, a song or a moment in nature to understand
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it is over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world."
- Mary Oliver
|One day you finally knew|
|what you had to do, and began,|
|though the voices around you|
|their bad advice --|
|though the whole house|
|began to tremble|
|and you felt the old tug|
|at your ankles.|
|"Mend my life!"|
|each voice cried.|
|But you didn't stop.|
|You knew what you had to do,|
|though the wind pried|
|with its stiff fingers|
|at the very foundations,|
|though their melancholy|
|It was already late|
|enough, and a wild night,|
|and the road full of fallen|
|branches and stones.|
|But little by little,|
|as you left their voice behind,|
|the stars began to burn|
|through the sheets of clouds,|
|and there was a new voice|
|which you slowly|
|recognized as your own,|
|that kept you company|
|as you strode deeper and deeper|
|into the world,|
|determined to do|
|the only thing you could do --|
|determined to save|
|the only life that you could save.|
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