When the heart is closed and love seems to be absent, the world becomes a wasteland of alienated individualism. In religious life, feeling a lack of love indicates separation from God and signals a dark night of the soul. While the despair of ego often precedes embarking on the spiritual path, the despair of the soul that feels separated from its Source seems to be an integral part of the soul’s journey. Shadows are dispelled when we begin to see the world through the eyes of love and acceptance rather than judgment. Trusting an intuitive response to love seems to be necessary for developing spiritual vision. When the spark of divinity in the soul is ignited, it is expressed in love……Frances Vaughan

receiving and settling like down feathers into love’s subtle strength shows us how to trust our gentle instincts…..the pull of inertia won’t resist the wearing down of our walls…..and giving into beauty and the grace of hope nests our will…..oh, to be grateful for the storms so that we may retreat, find safety and journey home…..

When Joseph Campbell described the journey of transformation, he wrote of coming through the dark cave into a new springtime of life. The important dimension he included is that when people come out of pain into newness of life, they always bring an ‘elixir’ or a gift with them. This gift is meant not just for themselves, but for the transformation of the world. Gifts are meant to be given. Gifts are offered freely. The healthier I am psychologically and spiritually, the freer I will be in offering my gifts to others……Joyce Rupp

everything is sweeter under the purity of white…..

You cannot say, ‘I need you’

so you say, ‘I like your shoes’

I cannot say, ‘I see your gods have failed you’

so I say, ‘your eyes look so sad’

You fold your arms, ‘the sentence for my crimes is life’

I lean in, ‘let’s look at those claims’

You look past me, eyes wide, ‘I am alone

and the night is coming for me’

my heart pounds

knowing what waits there

your breath stops to keep

the next door locked shut

but my left foot

is already in it

outside the trees

are restless with light

in the settling quiet

each filament of dust

streaming in from earth or star

delivers us, mote by mote

from the hour of undoing

into the hour of mercy

on what wings

we cannot say

….Frances Hatfield