I weave your name on the loom of my mind To clean and soften ten thousand threads And to comb the twists and knots of my thoughts. No more shall I weave a garment of pain. For you have come to me, drawn by my weaving, Ceaselessly weaving your name on the loom of my mind.
All that matters is to be at one with the living God to be a creature in the house of the God of Life. Like a cat asleep on a chair at peace, in peace . . . feeling the presence of Peace like a great assurance a deep calm in the heart a presence as of the master sitting at the board in his own and great being in the house of life.
If, as we work, we can transmit life into our work,
life, still more life, rushes into us to compensate, to be ready
and we ripple with life through the days.
Even if it is a woman making an apple dumpling,
or a man, a stool,
if life goes into the pudding, good is the pudding,
good is the stool,
content is the woman, with fresh life rippling in to her,
content is the man.
~ "We Are Transmitters" by D. H. Lawrence thanks to Roger Woolger
