If I had not once been smaller than a particle of dust, I could not look at dust and see God.
If I had not once been vaster than a galaxy, I could not look at the sun and see myself.
It is because the human soul passes through every element, every kingdom, every kind of creature, that she feels at home in the chaos of the universe.
Yet not being any one creature in particular, she interprets her cosmic longing as its opposite: a sense of alienation.
Let your loneliness embrace the night. Search not for a star. You are the womb of constellations. You are the breath that turns them all.
No need to cling to your tiny point in this vast wheel. Be the stillness through whom the pleroma dances, ever coming Om.
Photo: Milky Way over Mt. Tahoma. Not my photo, but my mountain.
Sabbath Breaths at 3 A.M.
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