of motion & stillness

1-Pics for Blog Edits231

 

We all have to learn how to listen. Our spirits are harpstrings, played upon by the winds and the light and the passing of the hours. We must learn to her their music, and let them raise melodies in our hearts. To catch these cusps of the spirit is to live our days in holy mindfulness, and to sense, in some distant reflection, the shadow of the mind of God….Kent Nerburn

what tender memories call us out of our sleeping days? those little reminders to gather and gaze…..to awaken to the habits we can make holy…..our hands gather around the smooth bowl to sip in silence……

Under all our burden and joy, there is a safe, interior place that feels like home. This safe place is the spot of honest being that we arrive at by being who we are. It’s here that we’re informed by the very aliveness of things, when we risk enough to let that aliveness touch us. Being human, we forget and drift from what is true, or out of fear and pain, run from it. Yet underneath our coming and going, our awakened kinship with others depends on our return to the common depth that gives us life. Yet one of the most intimate things we can do is to ask an honest question and one of the most intimate ways we can answer is to admit we don’t know. Then a tender and resilient journey begins- our friendship with the unknown….Mark Nepo

our common rituals

It is this inward element that draws and Moves Us.

…..Rumi

4 thoughts on “of motion & stillness

  1. McLuhan tells us The medium is the message … In the case of living our life our presence in the body becomes the message, we are here to know the vibrations and densities of this realm, would we deny our own soul this experience? Or embrace the light as a reflection of the truth that is us?

    • this life we are given is wildly precious……these endless encounters with the body teach us about soul patience…..how little we know about our own potential…….let us live well g.f.s….

  2. I love this as even now, my had is curved around a chipped cup which smells of dreamsickle in white orange tea. I am reminded that home is never far, and all that matters, I was given without price. My treasure is in the remembering that nothing is mine (everything is mine). Drink sweetly, my friend. ❤

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