Noticing, in recent weeks, patterns of emotional energy that would seem to be connected to childhood experiences—accompanied by images from those earlier years. All to be welcomed, embraced with tender-spacious intimacy, allowed in their own time to transform, recognized as already liberated. Among the various themes these dreamlike scenarios (these apparitions from Elizabeth’s past) present, …
Art & Spirit
Practice Notes: Into-Me-See
Three times in as many weeks, I’ve come across articles and/or online discussions on the topic of spiritual intimacy vs. human emotional intimacy. Questions that have been posed and then discussed include: * Which is more important: spiritual intimacy or human intimacy? * Which should take priority: being devoted to the Divine, in love with God—or being in love with and devoted to human …
Poets & Revealers
In The Garden Sweet sounds, and scents, and colours join to woo My musing heart to love and reverence; A tender and a subtle influence Comes from each graceful form, each brilliant hue; Strange power have they, my spirit to imbue With thoughts above themselves; for e'en while sense Adores the Beautiful with joy intense, The soul, far gazing, only seeks the True. And ye, fair flowers, …
Practice Notes: Wind
I’ve recently added a rainbow-spiral wind-dancer to my balcony. I love watching it hang quietly when the air is still, and dance in its spiraling way—creating the illusion of vertical movement—when it’s windy. Air In Motion Its presence has caused me to reflect upon the phenomena of wind—which really is just air in motion. Being essentially nothing other than air, wind—like air—is invisible. …
The Round Jubilance
From Blossoms From blossoms comes this brown paper bag of peaches we bought from the boy at the bend in the road where we turned toward signs painted Peaches. From laden boughs, from hands, from sweet fellowship in the bins, comes nectar at the roadside, succulent peaches we devour, dusty skin and all, comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat. O, to take what we love …
Seemingly Parallel Lines
Joy “Don’t cry, it's only music,” someone’s voice is saying. “No one you love is dying.” It’s only music. And it was only spring, the world’s unreasoning body run amok, like a saint’s, with glory, that overwhelmed a young girl into unreasoning sadness. “Crazy,” she told herself, “I should be dancing with happiness.” But it happened again. It happens when we make bottomless …