Longing, we say, because desire is full
of endless distances.”

09 February 2010

"We are pain and what cures pain, both. We are the sweet cold water and 
the jar that pours. I want to hold you close like a lute, so that we can cry 
out with loving. Would you rather throw stones at a mirror? I am your 
mirror and here are the stones." 

this is for the latest Little Traveler, come and gone.
Bright Fortune on your next assignment.
Blessed Be.

and this is for the Beloved
who gently sees me Through.

"Your face is true and your hair is perfect and I love you. You make boats 
in my dreams and you speak without words and I love you. Your fears 
unnerve me and your questions amuse me and I love you.  I love you not 
only for who you are, but for the interesting person I become when I'm 
with you. I say I love you and love you and love you until the words 
become the constant song of your voice in my head and the original ache 
of memory in my soul. I love you more than life and death, more than 
everything that's in between the light and the dark. Do you believe me? 
Try harder. Do you believe me now? I'm always with you, which is why I 
know you will never abandon yourself."

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Blessed Be.

"And if the question were asked: What is more real, the mundane or the sublime? most would hesitate before they gave an answer. On the one side, details: say, the aftermath of a breakfast, dirty chipped plates in the sink, their rims encrusted with egg yolk. Against this, the unnameable: small aching heart with boasts, what can you know? Outside the cage of everything we ever heard or saw, beyond, outside, above, there lies the real, hiding as long as we shall live, there stretch and trail the millions of names of God burning across the eons. When all through this our end will come before we even know the names of us.

For many the egg yolk prevails." -L.M.

"Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well."

"The perfection of the Absolute where all Becoming stops and pure Being, immutable, timeless, unchanging, hangs forever like a ripe peach upon the bough." -E.A.

"...and the whole incident was incredibly frazzling and angst-rod and filled almost a whole mead notebook and is here recounted in only its barest psycho-skeletal outline." -D.F.W.

"At the top of the mountain, we are all snow leopards." -H.S.T.

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." -D.T.
"Cometh a voice: My children, hear; From the crowded street and the close-packed mart I call you back with my message clear, back to my lap and my loving heart. Long have ye left me, journeying on by range and river and grassy plain, to the teeming towns where the rest have gone - come back, come back to my arms again. So shall ye lose the foolish needs that gnaw your souls; and my touch shall serve to heal the fretted nerve. Treading the turf that ye once loved well, instead of the stones of the city's street, ye shall hear nor din nor drunken yell, but the wind that croons in the ripening wheat. I that am old have seen long since ruin of palaces made with hands for the soldier-king and the priest and prince whose cities crumble in desert sands. But still the furrow in many a clime yields softly under the ploughman's feet; still there is seeding and harvest time, and the wind still croons in the ripening wheat. The works of man are but little worth; for a time they stand, for a space endure; but turn once more to your mother - Earth, my gifts are gracious, my works are sure. Instead of the strife and pain I give you peace, with its blessing sweet. Come back, come back to my arms again, for the wind still croons in the ripening wheat."
-John Sandes, The Earth-Mother (excerpt, 1918)