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Feast Of The Assumption

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     August 15, Feast of the Assumption of Mary, the Mother of God. Here in the fullness of Lion’s Gate and Lughnasadh, the summer harvest festival, the Church places the glorious celebration of the Mother’s body, assumed into Paradise. Not just her soul, but every jot and tittle of her flesh. This is her banquet of organic delights, Earth garlanded with dahlia bling in Pagan fullness, each pollen mote, each ear of wheat or aster grail, brimful with the Christall sun. The art of the Church, like the art of Buddhist and Tantric mandalas, is a symbolic language. Lush paintings of Mary’s Assumption remind us that divine love transfigures not just soul but flesh into the fire of God. Mary’s bodily assumption into “heaven” foreshadows what Teilhard called “the divinization of matter.” But her bodily assumption is just the first fruit of the human race, for our own bodies, even unto the twirling chromosome, must ascend as well. How? By descending into Matter...
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Evening Meditation

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Evening meditation. My center must find a center. No need to ask the Friend to enter my heart. The Friend is already here, more inward than the soul, a silence inside silence who loves me. Let my Being turn full well unto its own depth, like a mirror, gazing at the Christal seed. Here, drink from love's winecup, with Rumi, Hafez and Jesus, with Radha, Mirabai and Magdalene, beholding all their faces, sparkling facets of the bejeweled hologram I Am. This is companionship beyond Advaita, deeper than stillness, One overflowing into One .
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Pearl

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Polishing   the pearl in my chest  with this breath,  I know  that the silence of my heart  is God,  the glow is Christ,  and the river of unborn stars   flowing through my spine is the Holy Spirit.  Then what is my soul? No-thing but a shimmer of amazement as Lover and Beloved dissolve into Love. This is how three become One, and One becomes three. Choose anything, the sound of a cricket, the roar of the sun, the motionless explosion  of a rose. Art: J. Kirk Richards
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