There is an ancient tradition that when Divine Revelation comes into the world, only one part is given as prophetic writings. The words are only a part of the message. The other part is placed within nature, the wisdoms inherent in the Creation. Only when we understand those hidden wisdoms will we be able to read between the prophetic lines and fully understand the message.
~ from THE HIDDEN FACE OF GOD by Gerald L. Schroeder
Greetings, dear friends! When pollen bursts forth into the air, it is the asthma sufferers who know to count each breath a blessing. Most of us take breathing for granted; yet that rhythmic exchange means life. If we allow the gentle ebb and flow to seep back into our consciousness, it can become an awakening to the inner self, a nudge toward soul work. The Latin word spiritus, meaning "breath of life," is the root of the word spirituality. Just as breathing in and out connects us with the world around us, so too does it connect us with the source of our being and draw us toward the life within. May the giver of that sustaining light breathe new life in each of us.
Part of being human is to experience moments of true perception about those things that touch you so intimately that suddenly you see. What you see (or read or hear) at such moments has a ring of truth about it, not just of a general kind but as something that takes on a dimension and depth for you so that it becomes your truth. It seems to be making a claim on you. Such moments don't come often. Hold on to them. Cherish them until they become so much a part of you as to be second nature. For there is only one persistent demand made upon us by the Spirit. It is that we are receptive. That we keep our eyes open, our minds unclosed. It is, in short, that we retain all our lives our sense of wonder.
The practice of paying attention is the rarest of gifts because it depends upon the harshest of disciplines. So uncommon is it for us to grasp the beauty and mystery of ordinary things that, when we finally do so, it often brings us to the verge of tears. Appalled by our own poverty, we awake in wonder to a splendor of which we had never dreamed.
~ from THE SOLACE OF FIERCE LANDSCAPES by Belden C. Lane, as reprinted in AN ALMANAC FOR THE SOUL by Marv and Nancy Hiles
In my life-long impatience, how much I have missed. Last night, washing the dishes, I really looked at my iron frying pan in the dishwater. The light made visible for a moment a tiny rainbow—a light through water revealing all the colors of life. It is so easy to miss the tiny symbols. Finding them is quite different from the business of trying to hatch up big symbolic experiences. It is RECOGNITION, not PURSUIT, of meaning—recognition of the sacramental, of the intersection of the two worlds, breaking through unsought because one is ATTENDING.
~ from SUCH STUFF AS DREAMS ARE MADE ON by Helen Luke
Whenever she turned her steep focus to me, I felt the warmth that flowers must feel when they bloom through the snow, under the first concentrated rays of the sun.
