At the core of me is God. Suddenly I see the fury of the night as startling and beautiful. I am humbled right to my knees, but this time not from fright, but from reverence. I see the same storm through new eyes. I bow my head.
"Majestic, mysterious God. Great Spirit, which moves through all things. I will never know you fully. I will always be learning to love you. But YOU are love. I am sure of that. I believe that behind all fury is love. I do not see it or feel it right now. But I trust it is there."
"Contemplating is receiving." (St. John of the Cross) What we receive in prayer is the Spirit, who makes all creation new, moment by moment. It is the Spirit who rebirths us within the caves of our hearts. The case is a metaphor for this silent withdrawal, this going away to be alone, to listen, to gestate the Spirit, to rebirth ourselves. The reborn self is the child of wisdom born in solitude.
When I sleep outside to hear the sounds in the night ...
I hear the moon in her passing light and nightly transitions.
I hear her light falling in the cottonwood leaves and
I hear them spin on their long stems, answering. Regenerating
herself, her excess splendor seeds the earth and
each Tree of Life flowers ...
I hear the light and the seeds falling down and other sounds
rising up from the waters hidden beneath this desert ...
When dawn breaks and I awake to the trees in my eyes,
my ears are ringing with the night silence which sings
in my solitude through the day.
~ from THE LITANY OF THE GREAT RIVER by Meinrad Craighead
