Underneath all we are taught, there is a voice that calls to us beyond what is reasonable, and in listening to that flicker of spirit, we often find deep healing. This is the voice of embodiment calling us to live our lives like sheet music played, and it often speaks to us briefly in moments of deep crisis. Sometimes it is so faint we mistake its whisper for wind through leaves. But taking it into the heart of our pain, it can often open the paralysis of our lives. . . . the best chance to be whole is to love whatever gets in the way, until it ceases to be an obstacle.
Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise from outward things, what e’er you may believe. There is an inmost center in us all, Where truth abides in fullness . . . and to know, Rather consists in opening out a way Whence the imprisoned splendor may escape, Than in effecting entry for a light supposed to be without.
TRUTH: knowing we are integral to the Whole.
Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise
From outward things, whate'er you may believe.
There is an inmost centre in us all
Where truth abides in fullness; and around
Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in,
This perfect, clear perception — which is truth.
A baffling and perverting carnal mesh
Blinds it, and makes all error, and, to KNOW
Rather consists in opening out a way
Whence the imprisoned splendour may escape,
Than in effecting entry for a light
Supposed to be without.
Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise
From outward things, what'ere you may believe.
There is an inmost centre in us all,
Where truth abides in fulness; and around,
Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in,
This perfect, clear perception -- which is truth ...
and to KNOW,
Rather consists in opening out a way
Whence the imprisoned splendor may escape,
Than in effecting entry for a light
Supposed to be without.
~ from "Paracelsus" by Robert Browning with thanks to John Bryan
Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise
From outward things, what'ere you may believe.
There is an inmost centre in us all,
Where truth abides in fulness; and around,
Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in,
This perfect, clear perception -- which is truth ...
and to KNOW,
Rather consists in opening out a way
Whence the imprisoned splendor may escape,
Than in effecting entry for a light
Supposed to be without.
~ from "Paracelsus" by Robert Browning with thanks to John Bryan
