A Prayer for the Wounded

A Prayer For The Wounded.jpg

This is a prayer for the wounded, for the lonely, for the abandoned and frail, for the muted hearts that float with the burden of aloneness upon their shoulder. May they open to Light.

This is a prayer for the forsaken, for the abused, for the stranded and bereft, for the quarantined hearts of this world, and the next. May they allow the great note of Love to heal all they have endured.

This is a prayer for the weary, for the uncertain, for the meek and humbled hearts that have understood what beauty a simple kindness can bring. May they raise the world in a demonstration of the knowledge they have toiled so hard to gain.

This is a prayer for the forlorn, for the rejected and mistreated, for the timorous souls who tread quietly among us. May they reveal the pure life of love they have imagined in the darkness, the great jewel of Light’s permanent treasure.

May all suffering hearts be offered the glint of what possibility awaits; that they will become the strong, the wise and the just, the teachers of perennial kindness and its vehement joy.

If Love demands that its true value be learnt by being hidden, by being veiled by life’s trials and separations, may all wounded hearts be guided to a point of humility and calm, to thereby be healed and made whole by Love’s return.

Amen.

Immensity

immensity.jpg

The mountain, the stone, products of time and hardship, grow and recede, soar and dissolve, to perhaps flourish again under different oceans.

With gentle motion all drifts and melts with grace: the pirouette of a tumbleweed, the leaf loosed from its parent, the blade of grass that flickers, the slow curl of ivy as it climbs the mute fissures of mortar, the shadow that drifts across the immensity… Every grain and pebble; a wanted, necessary piece, playing its part in the dance of all that is and always must be.

To be aware, awake to the wonder–that, perhaps, is the greater task, to capture a glimpse of its vastness and let all complexity yield to this marvelous, elegant world: A creation that evolves and beckons me to evolve with calm reverence.

A Vision of Night

A Vision Of Night.jpg

Seldom is true goodness ambiguous, so we might wonder why a Soul chooses to blind itself with emotion and desire, to delve into the darkness of distraction and to walk through life neglectful of the beauty that sustains it. Could it be that once it has realized the freedom of individuality, a young Soul, a child of Light such as yourself set free in the firmament, must first fulfill some irresistible urge to express itself aloud in the darkness and thereby know what it truly is and what power is its own?

Here on this Earth we see how everyone talks and argues their truth, for the world is a Soul’s mirror, where it may create and recreate itself in its own light as often as it wishes, to thereby entertain its vanity or test its understanding of love.

As the Soul advances, it receives many suggestions on how to behave and who to become, and as the embodied light walks forward through the darkness, it must test the contour of its heart with each footfall. It will stumble at first, and long after, but eventually it will right itself and find wisdom in its expression.

In the beginning and at the end of this night, it is the solitary Soul in the loneliness of his own mind who must decide what ideas he will express and what design his heart will demonstrate—not his neighbor, nor his hero, or his culture. Understanding this responsibility precedes any lasting freedom.

Within this night is our grand experiment, where we, you and I, run this way and that, up and down the avenues of the absurd, sleeping, crying, laughing and dreaming. But above the heaviness of night an idea, like the sunlit moon, looks patiently, placidly, even longingly upon us. It’s light contains the key to our own, a way back that is so simple and so pure, for high up within each Soul resides the perfect idea, the Word, perhaps, and we are here to find it and even emulate its flawless expression of love.

As the Soul treks through darkness with no memory of where it came from, and often having no idea where it is going, there remains that particular knowledge, stirring and agitating the young Soul to move forward and create itself anew. Herein rests the true vision of night.

The Leap

The+Leap.jpg

Imagine this: When in moments of Love when we are able to lift out of ourselves, think of how one day the body will fall away, just as the chrysalis or the seashell releases its hold on the life placed within it. We have become so used to the idea of our human self, so used to its body, appearance, language, and expectation that we have placed our entirety into it. But one day, we will know these things are not truly ours; that they must be returned to the sole sovereignty of Earth.

Could it be that all things in nature have an interior presence, returning to this life and that in order to animate a form and thereby learn of Love? Does not each of us know secretly within that deep Love and its awareness cannot die, but only adapt and turn along a spiral of longing?

What a relief it must be to breathe in the perfumed rays of light after the heaviness of Earth. There! What an extraordinary thought, that we, you and I, infinitesimal persons in the vastness of space, have a life beyond, one that is before and after this worldly place.

Let us take a leap of mind and know that we are but visitors here, like divers who put on a suit to walk upon the bed of the ocean, to rise to the surface when the work is complete and the lesson learned. It is not outside that we will discover from where we have come and where we are going, but from behind closed eyes and within an open heart.

Let us understand then that all we take with us when we leave this place is whatever depth of Love we have claimed as our own. Everything else passes away, and how real can something be if it does not last?

Our Precious Work

Our Precious Work.jpg

Let it be my precious work: to care for every thought, to let each step, each breath, each softly spoken word, become a deed of light; a feat of unadorned desire.

Let it be my sacred work: to strive as of a voice of light, a golden sweep of bright devotion, where every contour of love’s pure, sure capacity opens the treasure of truth's laboring arms.

Let it be my special work: to toil with songs of love, to thereby illuminate each passing point of life’s demand and soften all edges of pain, longing and loss.

According to my Soul’s ambition, let my grandest work be to place the mark of tenderness upon each endeavor of worth.

Help me steady myself amid these trials of matter and find the courage to express the purity I desire in a prayer of simple, honest days.

Help me place my heart in the heavens even as my hands toil and scrape amid the dust and dirt of Earth. Help me to define myself in service, in my work; nay, in Your work, as a joyful, constant conduit of Beauty’s aim.

I shall strive with You at my side: With Light upon my shoulder, I need no other guide. Accompany me as I discover love’s true contour in the devotions of thankfulness. Yes, let my yearning shine, moment by moment, step by step.

Let my loving serve as a gift to Love, that labor may reveal its pure, engulfing capacity. As a glint of light in the prism of simple delight, let it be our work.

In Wondrous Company

A+Wondrous+Company.jpg

I walk this dream in the wondrous company of children and mothers, presidents, professors, gardeners and engineers.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of brothers and artists, students, librarians, grocers and psychics.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of dancers and cooks, lifeguards, violinists, seamstresses and florists.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of nurses and firemen, composers, miners, equestrians and welders.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of soldiers and secretaries, farmers, waitresses, street sweepers and sages.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of doctors and poets, sailors, fisherman, journalists and judges.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of priests and scientists, ballerinas, stewards, merchants and bus drivers.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of fathers and daughters, filmmakers, bakers, tailors and healers.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of cleaners and parking attendants, builders, accountants, hoteliers and salesmen.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of writers and painters, building managers, barristers, actors and chemists.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of electricians and photographers, athletes, surveyors, psychologists and lawyers.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of historians and designers, carpenters, architects, mechanics and plumbers.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of maids and surgeons, models, paramedics, astronomers and school teachers.
I walk this dream in the wondrous company of angels and guides, the Elohim, the Pure Light, the Divine, and you.

In your wondrous company, I dream.