Be grateful for your life, every detail of it, and your face will come to shine like a sun,
and everyone who sees it will be made glad and peaceful.
Persist in gratitude, and you will slowly become one with the Sun of Love,
and Love will shine through you its all-healing joy.
The path of gratitude is not for children;
it is the path of tender heroes, of the heroes of tenderness who, whatever happens,
keep burning the flame of adoration on the altar of their hearts.
inquiry for today~ somewhere in between, find yourself ok…..
Don’t call this world adorable, or useful, that’s not it.
It’s frisky, and a theater for more than fair winds.
The eyelash of lightning is neither good nor evil.
The struck tree burns like a pillar of gold.
But the blue rain sinks, straight to the white
feet of the trees
whose mouths open.
Doesn’t the wind, turning in circles, invent the dance?
Haven’t the flowers moved, slowly, across Asia, then Europe,
until at last, now, they shine
in your own yard?
Don’t call this world an explanation, or even an education.
When the Sufi poet whirled, was he looking
outward, to the mountains so solidly there
in a white-capped ring, or was he looking
to the center of everything: the seed, the egg, the idea
that was also there,
beautiful as a thumb
curved and touching the finger, tenderly,
as he whirled,
oh jug of breath,
in the garden of dust?
Mary referencing the Sufi poet … and she could see in nature the dawning of all beauty. Thanks for sharing !