Whoever opens their soul to the "influx of the divine" receives the revivifying experience of a higher world order. A "spiracle of eternal life" or "window on eternity" opens up and frees the soul of too narrow a view of reality.
I call the high and light aspects of my being SPIRIT and the dark and heavy aspects SOUL. Soul is at home in the deep, shaded valleys. Heavy torpid flowers saturated with black grow there.
The rivers flow like warm syrup. They empty into huge oceans of soul. Spirit is a land of high, white peaks and glittering jewel-like lakes and flowers.
Life is sparse and sounds travel great distances. There is soul music, soul food, and soul love.
People need to climb the mountain not simply because it is there, but because the soulful divinity needs to be mated with the spirit.
There is a force at work in the universe that guides all things. To imitate this force is called "falling in line with the Way of Heaven." It is the way of this force to yield. It is the way of this force to endure. Holding fast to the "Way," all things are accomplished by this force. The force does not strive, yet all things obey it. Mystery of mysteries, this force is the Mother of all things; mystery of mysteries, those who know it know the Eternal.
~ Laotse, found in THE SPIRITUAL ATHLETE edited by Ray Berry
Many are avidly seeking, but they alone find who remain in silence... Those who delight in a multitude of words, even though they say admirable things, are empty within. If you love truth, be a lover of silence. Silence like the sunlight will illuminate you in God and will deliver you from the phantoms of ignorance. Silence will unite your soul to God.
Kay and I went to Walpi, maybe the oldest continuous inhabited village on the continent... Near a stole altar lives an ancient great-grandmother, over a hundred years old, some say. She asked us to come in. Her hands are arthritic but she is a working potter. She not only throws the pots, but paints them afterward. I asked her how she manages to do it, since her knuckles are knotted by arthritis and she is nearly blind with cataracts.
She said, "It's not my hands that make the pot, it's my spirit. My hands are broken by my potteries hold my soul, and that's whole."
~ from THE THEFT OF THE SPIRIT by Carl A. Hammerschlag
BLESSINGS be with you, friends! As we become friends with the Silence, we will begin to hear as loudly as any outer voice our own spirit calling us to soul-making, to that deep inner space seeking to be in complete harmony with the universe.
