A Community of Souls...exploring the mystery of being human
It cannot be told. What do I mean? “It can’t be told.” It can only be found by you letting go of you—it can only be seen by you letting go of the self that keeps telling you what it wants or wants it to be.
William Boast, The Omnific Journey
On This Day…
New Year for Persians, Zoroastrians and Baha’is
Taoist rite honoring the ”Shen” - deities of water, east and spring and prayers to live in harmony with nature
Shunki-Korei-Sai: Shinto festival honoring the ancestral spirits
Osiris! Look! Osiris! Listen! Arise! Live again!
Osiris! thou wert gone, but thou hast returned; thou didst
sleep, but thou hast been awakened; thou didst die, but
thou livest again.
Egyptian Pyramid Texts
All that we can infer is embedded in the cycle of this life.
And we bear witness that there is power and truth in the resurrection—
that in the death of the seed, the bloom of the fruit.
Like our ancestors we carry in
our essences of faith, hope and love--
unmistakable like the scent of frankincense, myrrh, cinnamon and cloves
and, all we know for sure, is the greatest of these is love
as it sustains and nourishes our soul with body;
and, we pray, will sustain and nourish our soul without body.
For the mystery and the awe-filled beauty
of the death and the resurrection, we are grateful.
Benjamin H Martin
Sacrificing is everywhere in me; sacrificing every moment of every day. Every moment of every day, I’m sacrificing with ferocious intensity some mental and emotional part of me; burning it off, transmogrifying it; the least of me transubstantiating into the best of me. Otherwise. it’s the silliest saunter through life—as Bill Boast often said. So every breath is an intake of fiery spirit that’s Holy, every step is through another fiery doorway so something else is being sacrificed. Through tiredness, footsore weariness; sacrificing and sacrificing and sacrificing, always sacrificing. And so it goes.
—I realize I am saying it poorly. I don’t sacrifice my personality, I sacrifice letting my personality, my feelings, my emotions and my reasons run my life. My personality serves my Soul’s errand in the world.
Ben Leichtling
On This Day…
Wilfred Owen born 1893 in Oswestry, England, died 1918: World War I poet killed the last day of the war
Works: Dulce et Decorum Est, Anthem for Doomed Youth, The Parable of the Old Man and the Young
Quotes: “My subject is war, and the pity of war. The poetry is the pity.” “Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.”
Meditation on the Prasna Upanishad
Remain a year, O Bhargava, live for a cycle of time
and then we will speak of the power of life,
of the power supreme that is life itself.
Remain a year, a cycle of time
and attune your voice, mind, eye and ear
to the song that is life.
Be the eye that hears, the fire that burns, the sun that gives light,
the song of joy that is the wind, the rain and the thunder
as life sings the mystery of that which is and that which is not.
Remain a year, O Bhargava,
and if you would know the power of life,
watch as Creation itself is quickened again and again in the womb of time.
And when the time comes,
you will know that we are not the consumers of life,
but the consumed,
that each is a poem and truth written by life
born as a gift to the gods.
Teri H Martin
