turning the key in the lock & opening the door

1-Pics for Blog Edits19

I don’t know where prayers go,

or what they do.

Do cats pray, while they sleep

half-asleep in the sun?

Does the opossum pray as it crosses the street?

The sunflowers? The old black oak

growing older every year?

I know I can walk through the world,

along the shore or under the trees,

with my mind filled with things

of little importance, in full

self-attendance. A condition I can’t really

call being alive.

Is a prayer a gift, or a petition,

or does it matter?

The sunflowers blaze, maybe that’s their way.

Maybe the cats are sound asleep. Maybe not.

While I was thinking this I happened to be standing

just outside my door, with my notebook open,

which is the way I begin every morning.

Then a wren in the privet began to sing.

He was positively drenched in enthusiasm,

I don’t know why. And yet, why not.

I wouldn’t persuade you from whatever you believe

or whatever you don’t. That’s your business.

But I thought, of the wren’s singing,

what could this be

if it isn’t a prayer?

So I just listened, my pen in the air.

….Mary Oliver

seeking out our bare roots……..

The roses lie on the burlap sack in the sturdy cardboard box they came packed in. Their roots are bare. On a printed sheet the planting instructions are next to them. How vulnerable they are in transit. Without quick transportation in that sturdy container, a good reception, and a quick placement in the garden, they are done for. We are so much like them, sliding into the world with the root to our mother exposed. We must be received to grow in this world. We must be swaddled, sheltered, and fed. Even as adults we need this. How vulnerable life is without support. If we have no place, we are rootless. It is hard to become ‘that part of God’ we were born for without being planted securely in life. My spiritual core will be a thorny twig with shriveled roots if I am not planted in God’s presence. Along with these roses I need to be placed in deep soil, in quiet loam, in the tenderness of God. We need living water for our thirst. We need to be fed and tended by the generous life force that is at the heart of all things. Only then can our potential come to greening. The greatest longing is to leaf out, to become what we have been given to be…..Gunilla Norris

coming home is the deepest ecstasy of the spirit cycle…..the innate rightness of the wildish essence of mystery…..and yet, this isn’t a solitary journey, but rather an intuitive wisdom drawn from time’s passing, the empathic knowing of cohorts on the path and our heart’s worth….what lies behind the shadows of our soul?

At the Natural Gate, our work is to come home to ourselves and discover where we are truly content, happy, and satisfied. These states show us where deep self-acceptance resides and where we trust our natural being and our inner wilderness. The most splendid external expression of that wilderness is nature itself. Nature, in its majestic beauty, can put our soul at ease, relax us, and deliver us to a timeless mystery that opens the doors to contemplation, reflection, integration, and transformation. When we experience inner quiet and peacefulness, we can savor the wisdom and spirituality found in nature, in silence, and in precious moments we experience at the center of our being…..Angeles Arrien

6 thoughts on “turning the key in the lock & opening the door

  1. Shadows of our souls … Sounds like the title to a poem … There lives Spirit, that great consciousness of Love, that has always been, and shall always be. Each prayer, a supplication to That One in whom we live and move and have our being. Every movement, every yearning a prayer … All is consciousness, consciousness is all, song, especially song rising on the wind seeks its home reflecting in That Great Forever.

    • this is a beautiful cloak surrounding the measure of our days….using our heavenly ideals for inspiration, remembering our humanness all the while……resting in The One that holds us…..keep planting roses g.f.s….

  2. Blue, indeed, it is that sweet murmuring that directs the turning of the universe. And yet, it is more than something that follows ‘our Father who art in heaven’ and precedes ‘amen’. It is the grace of sitting down, of lifting a hand or an eye toward the sky. It is acceptance and sorrow and living. It is glory for blessings come and reverance for those (at last) recognized. Prayer is like the river – something you can’t imagine has the strength to do any good, and yet give it time and it can change the lay of the land. Give it time, and it changes the one who prays ~ and thus it changes everything…… Lovely indeed. ~ Bobbie

    • you tune in to that beautiful journey of mindfulness….the exquisite and poetic perception…..prayer holds all that roars down the river…..we know that it continues to flow regardless of how hard we try to hold on….but simply noticing and letting them fall in the forever stream….we are indeed changed by prayer….a bow into ‘that sweet murmuring’……gracious Bobbie….

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