I find you, Lord, in all Things & in all
my fellow creatures, pulsing with your life;
as a tiny seed you sleep in what is small
& in the vast you vastly yield yourself.
The wondrous game that power plays with Things
is to move in such submission through the world:
groping in roots & growing thick in trunks
& in treetops like a rising from the dead.
we seek the sacred….silent & reverent in our aloneness……that yearning which calls us down sometimes….we don’t know what to make of our crooked hearts…we try to move lightly forward…clinging to the strings of our life….
this profound weekend calls for an inquiry into these baffled hearts….these basic assumptions…a reflection in sweetness….like jelly beans….
What must die? Any resistance to the bigger truth. Any holding on by the little ego part of me that cannot see beyond its own nose. Practicing dying means living as close to reality as we can in each moment. It is the ultimate bravery. The spiritual warrior stands undefended before the truth. Every day you are given an embarrassingly rich array of opportunities to die to your resistance to what is so about yourself, your life, & those you share it with. Try it….Elizabeth Lesser
what does your house hold? where does it crumble?
or is it just letting in more light?