A Rare Visitor

My soul feels the soft, quiet magic today.

Its visits to my body are elusive, rare
and always unpredictable. 

It's the kind of hopeful, peaceful magic
that compels me to write poetry and that
swells in my whole being,
just making me excited
about something
I can't quite put my finger on. 

It's akin to being swaddled in God's wonder
and seeing past everything as I normally see it,
looking out at the world
as if it is on the other side of a window I am sitting at,
inside the safety and warm home of the spiritual.

It's a feeling that holds me,
bids me to dwell in this feeling,
this experience. 

Just be.
That is all I can do,
all I want to do,
all I am being asked to do. 

The world of people rushing around me
with tasks and deadlines and goals and agendas
seems foreign and irrelevant. 

Urgency is absent -- this is not a sensation that compels me to action.
It is the deepest experience of just dwelling
in peace, love, wonder, and the reality
(which, on account of how little we actually
trust in and dwell in it,
is often a surreality)
that nothing is ultimately critical
because we are not the ones holding anything.
God holds it all.

Ukranian Gymnasts Are Not Human

I love the commentator, who does not seem a bit phased or surprised.

Coziness in Discomfort

"Comfort blinds people to the goodness of God’s comfort. We don’t remember that being comfortable with God is so much more important." -Wisdom from my Megan

Russell Brand, Let's Be Friends

And then we can get pissed and start revolutions together. :)

Space Between the Logs

What makes a fire burn
is space between the logs
a breathing space.

~Judy Brown

A Love So Large

“Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away… and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast. Be happy about your growth, in which, of course, you can’t take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don’t torment them with your doubts and don’t frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn’t be able to comprehend.

Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn’t necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust.

And don’t expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.”

~ RMR, Letters to a Young Poet

Happy Bartolome Day!

Clicky