“The river” is a thing, but always in motion. So never really the same. It couldn’t be “the river” without its unmoving bed.
Hours earlier, these droplets formed out of the morning mist. Settled here, they endow even greater beauty to an already beautiful image of God’s presence in nature’s cathedral. On this altar, these droplets are separate, yet from and of the same substance. The same essence. They will, hours from now, be transformed, imperceptibly, still theContinue reading “Angels In the Mist”
No one is transformed by thinking. It is our nature to *relate*, not contain.
Love is not a noun. Nor a goal. Love is creating. Uniquely.
Coffee before the sun comes up. But there was no sunrise today. The gray dawn grew merely more brightly gray
[6 minute read] [see also resource index] [A shorter 1-minute version of below, extricated from any Dark Night contexts, is here.] Most narrowly, the phrase originates from a Spanish poem (Dark Night) centuries ago. Its author wrote explications of the poem which speak of two metaphorical nights that purge the soul to approach divine unionContinue reading “Dark Night of the Soul (4) – Introductory Musings: Exemplary Lessons?”