More from my journal today:
And in the quiet part of the day, we finally share our true words and mean them from the bottom of us.
And they touch something, stir something, mean something to someone somewhere, in hope. Our words finally settle into themselves and can really bless, despite us.
And in the meantime, we rush and blaze and trail to know the competition of being alive; we interrupt ourselves; we try to react, work, guard too hard or defend….but then again, the evening comes for our words, and we know—
what St John told us: “blessed are you who know and rest in The Word….” We finally place our silly unusual and gorgeously expressive words in His Living Word-founding them in His foundry, and finding our names hidden somehow in His.
And we are again astounded that He held our names as and in love’s whisper for so long. He held His breath for us to form!
And then our tone comes clear, we are obviously near, then, to our real words. What we were meant to speak each day, at least by evening.

As artists…
We knew symbols like the back our hands or the palm perhaps. But Love was another matter. That we had to trace farther into, until we knew her as ourselves, bathed as we were in her liquor. That elixir or being which knows itself into seeing. That fine shined sight, where Light is second nature!
Symbol was simple. God is one and talks in verse, puns and creative discourse, He talks in us, in short. We got that much. It was just part of how He expresses. But what He was saying took a lifetime to incarnate, as if we, too, were words, barely becoming His. Us, barely, but starting to be, spoken!

We knew symbols like the back our hands or the palm perhaps. But Love was another matter. That we had to trace farther into, until we knew her as ourselves, bathed as we were in her liquor. That elixir or being which knows itself into seeing. That fine shined sight, where Light is second nature!
Symbol was simple. God is one and talks in verse, puns and creative discourse. We got that much. It was just part of how He expresses. But what He was saying took a lifetime to incarnate, as if we, too , were words, barely becoming His.

We knew symbols like the back our hands or the palm perhaps. But Love was another matter. That we had to trace farther into, until we knew her as ourselves, bathed as we were in her liquor. That elixir or being which knows itself into seeing. That fine shined sight, where Light is second nature!
Symbol was simple. God is one and talks in verse, puns and creative discourse. We got that much. It was just part of how He expresses. But what He was saying took a lifetime to incarnate, as if we, too , were words, barely becoming His.

And in the quiet part of the day, we finally share our true words and mean them from the bottom of us. And they touch something, stir something, mean something to someone somewhere, in hope. Our words finally settle into themselves and can really bless, despite us. And in the meantime, we rush and blaze and trail to know; we interrupt ourselves; we try to react, work, guard too hard or defend….but then again, the evening comes for our words, and we know—what St John told us: “blessed are you who know and rest in The Word….” We finally place our silly unusual and gorgeous words in His-founding, or rather His foundry, and finding our names hidden somehow in His, we are again astounded that He held our names as and in love’s whisper for so long. And then our tone comes clear, we are obviously near, then, to our real words. What we were meant to speak each day. What we are meant to speak each day. And we too, begin to whisper again our true names in Him.

And in the quiet part of the day, we finally share our true words and mean them from the bottom of us. And they touch something, stir something, mean something to someone somewhere, in hope. Our words finally settle into themselves and can really bless, despite us. And in the meantime, we rush and blaze and trail to know; we interrupt ourselves; we try to react, work, guard too hard or defend….but then again, the evening comes for our words, and we know—what St John told us: “blessed are you who know and rest in The Word….” We finally place our silly unusual and gorgeous words in His-founding and finding our names hidden somehow in His. And then our tone comes clear, we are obviously near, then, to our real words. What we were meant to speak each day.

And in the quiet part of the day, we finally share our true words and mean them from the bottom of us. And they touch something, stir something, mean something to someone somewhere, in hope. Our words finally settle into themselves and can really bless, despite us. And in the meantime, we rush and blaze and trail to know; we interrupt ourselves; we try to react, work, guard too hard or defend….but then again, the evening comes for our words, and we know—what St John told us: “blessed are you who know and rest in The Word….” We finally place our silly unusual and gorgeous words in His-founding and finding our names hidden somehow in His. Our face comes clear dear, and we are at home with ourselves.

And in the quiet part of the day, we finally share our true words and mean them from the bottom of us. And they touch something, stir something, mean something to someone somewhere, in hope. Our words finally settle into themselves and can really bless. IN meantime, we rush and blaze to know. we try to react or work too hard or defend….but then again, the evening comes for our words, and we know—what St John told us” blessed are you who know and rest in….”

Reading some poetry today…

My favorite poets have such a depth tenderness of observation. You feel they are caring things into place through their beholding. That it is less about them, and more about mending the world, as some have put it. Beauty is in the “I” of the beholder as Buber put it. When we engage in Love, both and the other are changed towards Life. I love thinking of aesthetics as a healing act. To behold well, calls forth Life in all directions. When we see even the creatures for what they really are, outside of our needs, we haven them, and somehow ourselves as well.

The Homily from the Hill or the Sermon on the Mount!

This is that passage, where Jesus is giving his most extended and collected sermon recorded. I’m reading Matthew’s version this week. What a power house of goodness! It’s atomic energy this passage! Watch out if you really read your way into the Reality of it! You will be seared into change!

Been delving into and around Jesus’ Sermon on the Mountain this week. Wow! It’s packed. No wonder Ghandi and the gang liked it best in the New Testament!

It’s better than teaching, it’s a invitation into another type of world. It’s sort of describing things from that world, what things really look like from there, and how it interfaces with here, and daily reality or life. Seems historically, that people got lost on seeing it more as a list of to do, or new standard. I’m sensing it more as someone standing between worlds and speaking from another one into this one. It’s that mountain space between heaven and earth where He is teaching from.

I also don’t think it’s a works versus law section. But more how the Kingdom engulfs both. Getting caught up into this passage is clearly transformative, and has been for millions of humans for a very long time. Nice to re-visit the mountain and overhear Jesus teachings! It also appears to be an invitation to live from that Mountain.
In that place, there is another type of order of things. A fresh cosmology, and stream of ethics which complete the older ones.

Anyway, good to re-visit some of the spaces in scriptures we tend to take for granted or which have become so normalized that we can’t enter them afresh!

If this is a keyhole into The Kingdom and it’s ways, it is the largest in the New Testament!