life a floating leaf.
life a floating leaf.
The nerve of silence quivers in the intense longing of the heart
and everything is reduced to an expression of tears.
And I rediscover compassion, intimacy, and serenity.
It is, after all, a contemplative expedition in the depths of my humanity.
How could I not be moved to tears?
The backyard, the shadow,
the light, dried leaves, the dirt.
All are engaged in silence
and stillness, in an afternoon
of destiny, at the same time,
and for a few minutes, I, too,
was silent and still, absorbing,
internalizing, my thoughts
unmoving, just letting in
everything without logic,
just the heart seeing. We were
all in the midst of suspended time.
This is one of the mysteries of life,
a haven for survival, a place
where the world is lifted up
without even touching it. And
everything becomes light and enlightened.
All done in righteousness and peace
and deep understanding.
It is achingly beautiful
when the golden shaft of sunlight
hits the leaves and make them glow
that I just stand in silence.
And yet it is fleeting and sad.
The beautiful clarity of the early morning
like a clear brook in ancient times.
There is a quiet insistence in this
that ties holiness with beauty.
Then the yellow light silently and slowly spreads,
glittering the leaves that help unfold
the geniality of my spirit.
How can I not succumbed to this beauty
It connects me to the ephemerality of the morning dew
and to the decent soft blowing of the wind
and to the first bird I have just seen.
It is actually spiritual.
And It all speaks of graciousness and mercy
and truth and justice. And wisdom.
And in my sweet aloneness, I listen and
it inhabits and grows in me.
There lies a deeper connection.
And I just keep quiet.
I turned inward and
looked to the east.
It is all about coming back to where it all begins.
It is all about what is true.
It is all about deeply remembering.
It is all about longing and belonging.
A revelation seen more than two thousand years ago.
It is all about waiting.
It is all about returning.
It is all about a grand reunion.
There is a room
with the door slightly opened.
Inside is a deep secret, a deep truth.
But no one is yet allowed to get inside
but you can come in if you want;
however, the consequences of doing so
cannot yet be ascertained.
There is an itch to get inside. There is no question that the itch is what causes the tension, a serious conversation with your ego, a clash within yourself. It is about either abiding to the very strong lure of the ego to get inside that room or about harnessing your ego until such time that it disappears while your heart, your mind and your soul sink deeper and deeper into submission into a sovereign reality, losing yourself in the process, and thus preventing you from getting inside that room. It is about not yet eating the apple being offered to you. It is about just waiting it out. This is the deepest you can bow down and forget about everything.
This is how you deal with the tension. Just get lost. And you will have freedom, peace and healing.
Revelation waits for an appointed time and you will be allowed to get in. It is a promise sealed with blood thousands of years ago, so as the sun consistently goes up and down and the moon is always up there and not here.
WITHIN ARE PIECES OF ME
with Cristen Rodgers
spirituality, sustainability, hospitality and community
Oh yes, dreams do come true.
The view from my front porch every morning in 140 or fewer characters
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