how we show up for each other

My late friend Joanna Macy called this time period the time of the Great Turning, one where humanity was being called to make a great shift in how we interact with the external world, each other, and our internal worlds. While things may seem difficult, there is a great hope that lives within each of us which we can always call upon. Just as the caterpillar transforms into a butterfly through the imaginal cells within the chrysalis, so too do we have the opportunity to become the imaginal cells of a new world.

~Jack Kornfield

what is my new lesson learned?

inquiry for today~ merriment in the moment please….

finding sweetness at last….

Beneath the plots, where the neurotic

baker ruins his hands by twisting all that

dough, where the dreamer twists his dream

by insisting it’s superior, where the saint

grows oppressed by the steel of his ideals,

where the conqueror runs out of wilderness

to conquer, and the victim runs out of con-

querors to fear, beyond the shrines we build

that bright children resist, beyond all paths,

where the Puritan has his fill of soap and

the lonely are secretly tired of flesh—what

is laid bare is a very tender ark like the air

between weak palms in prayer.

And there, the mathematician loses his urge

to count, and the skeptic can find no thrill

in doubt, and the analyst is bored with his

ability to lubricate small human gears and

it seems presumptuous to know what

we’re after.

There, the thoroughbred can’t distinguish

between riders, nor our spirit isolate

what provides it.

On Earth, as within us, God comes in

thunder and in sparks, in danger and

softness and unintended remarks, like a

sneeze in a crowd that infects us all, like

a flood through your knees till each step

is a shovel, till you plead with no shame

for fewer truths to choose from and

the Universe just keeps coming.

~Mark Nepo

One thought on “how we show up for each other

  1. The Second Coming
    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again; but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

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