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Activist

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      What is an “activist”? You can be an activist planting Winter squash, walking in a fern forest, listening to your children, or smiling from your heart at someone who is lonely. True activism means, to gently immerse your whole astonished body in the river of Presence. To be moved by the breath of beauty like a golden leaf, falling right where you are. To drown in the mystery of communion with whoever stands before you, and serve them by Being. Out of Being, doing arises. This is love. And whatever action happens in that moment is your politics. The politics of compassion has no party, and no platform. It is groundless. A disheveled crow, a boy in the rain with his shining basketball, a spider web catching the moon, a crone at the grocery store marveling at all the soup. These are your tribe. This is your native country. It is all a sacred homeland. Now crush a late-summer blackberry on your tongue. Surely this is why you are here. Earth is not transfigured by...
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Sorry

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         Feel sorry for anyone who says, “I am not this body.” The two-syllable name of the Friend is my heartbeat. The Goddess is my breath. In this bone cathedral  under a gristly dome, every initiation,  every mystery  has already happened. The human form is pierced with doorways, wounded with portals to all possible worlds. A Bride and Groom ascend the aisle of my spine. They kiss in the sanctuary. My father and mother? My first ancestors? Perhaps those mournful exiles  returning to the garden of my flesh to walk with me in the cool of the evening while trillions of tiny oceans sing the sun to rest  in a dark valley just below my sternum. Don’t go anywhere. Stay here, pilgrim, dissolve in your ministry of wonder. And please, feel some compassion for anyone who says, “I am not this body." Painting: Lavar Munroe
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The Gentlest Name

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“And she shall bring forth a son, and you shall call his name Jesus.” ~Mat 1:21 As we explore the gentle power of the Name, let us read this verse of scripture, not as an event in historical time, but an event deep in our solar plexus, in eternity. The name of the Friend is a flame in the heart. This practice of meditation is ancient, coming down to us from the early Desert Fathers of the 2 nd Century CE. Let Jesus be your breath. I will just share my experience of the prayer; you may enjoy your own.   When I feel this flame inside, I don’t need to "believe,” I just feel the warmth. I get lost in the wilderness of the heart, where love can find me. The name is a lantern in the forest. I don't know where the path might lead, but I can step into the next small pool of light. This is enough, this is Presence. The name of Jesus is so subtle, yet substantial, that its essence outshines all other elements. For in the realm of essences, what is gentlest permeates earth, w...
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