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Secret

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There's a secret in this madness. Everything is breath. A toadstool is Spirit-blown like glass. This mossy stone must be  the supreme Being because it exists. The wing of a housefly reveals a thousand verses of scripture, but you need to look. The fur on a golden shelter dog is infested with celestial messengers. Your next inhalation, the intimate name of Lady Wisdom, Sophia, whose whisper only lovers know. How does Mount Fuji float on a cloud? How do a billion stars rest in your open palm like a black moth? It happens through the science of miracles. The sun and planets in free-fall, caught and held by some colossal stillness. Be a pilgrim, then you'll understand the secret in this madness. Let the radiance of your destination illuminate your starting place before you take the first step. Let the space between the beginning and the end be a single exhalation of grace. What stands in your way is seeking. Everyth...
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Silence is the Womb of Creation (Video)

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  "Above all things, love silence. Out of your silence will arise something  that will draw you into deeper silence. When you practice this, inexpressible  light will dawn upon you." ~St. Isaac of Ninevah, 7th C.  "True prayer is the heart's silence, free of all thoughts, ceaselessly breathing Christ..."  ~St. Hesychius of Jerusalem, 4th C.     
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Small

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    Knowing makes you small. Big spirits mutter in amazement, mantras like, “WTF?” and, “I have no idea,” their windows and doors wide open, letting wind blow seeds in. Some meet the Master and start building earthworks right away with sandbags of mind dust and suspicion bones. Others see a long-lost Friend, scent jasmine and let their last breath go, falling into dazzled silence, dark as the soul of Beauty. From that moment on they’re breathed by an Other who is deeper inside them  than memories of birth or death. Sun floods earth, one perfect beam for each awakening bulb. It depends on how ready you are to burst open and fill the air with the fragrance of your Unknowing. Listen, dear, this world is a dry cocoon. Soon it will crack and shatter, spilling up into golden air the crinkled rainbows you've kept holding too long  in your chest. Give up certainty. Just unfold. Photo: A visitor in my backyard
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To You

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To you who say God is not a person I say God is my friend. To you who say God takes a human form I say God is boundless space in the brain of an ant. To you who say God is beyond the body I say God is this breath. I hold opposite teachings in my chestful of wonder. To you who say God dwells inside I say God spills over the rim of the star chalice like silence from an empty bell. You say God is One, I say God is love longing for a companion. You say God is your paramour, I say yes, yes, God hides in the plum blossoms dancing as pure light through the wings of a dragonfly. Photo by Clare Louise Larkin
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