We as a people are only now beginning to learn to read the language of the earth once more. We are beginning to see what our actions create. Since the beginning there have been those who have listened to the earth's song. We are a note in the discord or the harmony of this world. The way we walk is the way it becomes. Speak in anger and anger will come to you, speak with caring and love and these too shall be drawn to you. Our choices in action are sacred. To choose to work our way through our emotions and actions in a good way can be a most sacred act. Each action affects all others.
I was beginning to realize that you must
come slowly to a place; wait a little before
feverishly resorting to guidebooks...Place
has a mighty tongue of its own.
It is not enough to seek and care; to pay lip service to all manner of ideals. Real witness is what counts. It is something to do with leaps in the dark. Recognizing that Truth is hidden. But transformation towards truth is something else. It is practice and diligence.
Every night I had a sense to consciously pitch the tent of my being in a definite place of "unknowing." Bang in the pegs saying, I do not know anything. Inside the tent it might be dark, or maybe there were spins of moonlight. But in there, somehow or other, you know there is love. Love is, and may proceed from wherever you are, without you knowing anything very much.
As they talked together of The Way, the obstacles, the people, the signs ... you felt the great importance of the physicality of the quest. All of them stressed the power of silence: the need to be alone and find oneself in the silence. Moving alone, with silence as the single companion, seems a most profound means to register the natural balance of the world without, and world within.
A pair of long, black woolen stockings hung there, and in one of them a huge darn. A perfected circle of calmly woven thread, no bobble or tug, no tension, no rough knot. Only someone very special, stable, and peaceful could make that kind of darn. To me it was a work of art. To do the smallest thing so supremely well, it had to be done with Love.
