Still, what I want in my life
is to be willing
to be dazzled—
to cast aside the weight of facts
and maybe even
to float a little
above this difficult world.
I want to believe I am looking
into the white fire of a great mystery.
I want to believe that the imperfections are nothing—
that the light is everything—that it is more than the sum
of each flawed blossom rising and fading. And I do.
~ Mary Oliver from "The Ponds" in NEW AND SELECTED POEMS, VOL. ONE
Dear Pray-er, A soul not nourished by prayer is like a barren desert: Pray when you work. Pray over every problem. Pray when you are at home, Pray with your family. Pray when you watch the news, Pray over the nations, the planet. Pray in the Silence, Become the Prayer.
The Saguaro (barrel-chested cactus), arms uplifted as though in prayer, might remind us that for countless ages its desert home has been viewed by spiritual seekers as a special prayer space. In the long history of prayer, the desert has often been seen as a holy locale where seekers can travel light and encounter spiritual realities. The desert, whether of sand or of our inner souls, challenges us to see more clearly and to travel with prayer as our best companion.
~ from ONE HUNDRED CRANES by William J. Fitzgerald
"Is there enough Silence for the Word to be heard?"
Autumn blessings, dear friends! We are all united in the natural seasons of birth, life, and physical death. Learning to die daily to all that is notmovement toward wholeness and holiness while choosing each day to love more deeply and authentically helps enable us to be birthed with grace and serenity of soul into the Unseen Realm of Love, where a new and vibrant Life awaits us. Delving into the Silence regularly, we will discover new insights to lead us toward a peace-filled heart and gracious living.
The death of anyone close to us is always a form of salutation, a simultaneous good-bye to their physical presence and a deep hello to a more intimate imaginal relationship now beginning to form in their absence.
On this rainy and interior day, as I write letters about Mummy, I feel her presence so strongly. Just now, I can feel her sending her love to me. Suddenly, I see and feel her standing there, just a couple yards in front of me by the window, looking younger, and yet every age and no age. She's all in white, radiating light, smiling her smile, and love is pouring out of her eyes onto me, covering me. Ifeel my heart pounding, a ringing in my ears. I find it hard to breathe. It is overwhelming ... I know now she'll always be with me and, though it makes me sad to think I can't be with her in person anymore, I know I'll never not be with her again.
The heart of most spiritual practice is simply this -- remember:
Remember who you love. Remember what is sacred. Remember what is true. Remember that you will die, and that this day is a gift. Remembver how you wish to life.
Often we hear, "Is there a right time to die?" Of course there is: when one has been invited back home. When the Universal is waiting. The Light will invite you. The Doorway will open. You will know this with either your senses or your intuition or both. You will look outward ata the world and experience a sense of peace that only the opened Doorway and the Light can provide.
We die to many parts of ourselves, and the quality of each of these dying processes determiners the vitality of each rebith. It seem sto me that between heaven and earth there is just the slightest, most permeable membrane, and dthat it is possible to live in both realms simultaneously, at least some of the time. The conjunction of the two dimensions that we so loosely call death and birth is equally permeable. Each courageous end is also the finest and most pure beginning. To journey into that great unknown is the human-making pilgrimage, a gradual return to the image and likeness of God.
~ from "The Last Note" by Therese Schroeder Sheker
