A Community of Souls...exploring the mystery of being human
Everything I am attached to is attached to me--
my personal parasites,
collected with care, they feed daily on my life,
eat up my vision, steal my fire.
They need so much to keep them fed.
Oh, I have collected them with care
and watched them eat away my love till so little was left
you'd never know I had once been kissed.
I wonder where they'll go when I am dead?
William Boast
This is entheos.
And who dances at our birth but joy?
And who dances atop our grave but joy?
And who, but joy, dances when we join together?
And who, but joy, dances when we put asunder?
And where is our joy but in what is being created?
And where is the source of this creation
but in the death of what has happened?
And what can keep us from this joy of creation
but holding on to what has happened?
And thus, our joy's beginning is in the
joyous sorrow of our letting go, letting
go, letting go, letting go.
From the Mystery of Joy High Service
On This Day…
St. Antonious of Florence (1389-1459 CE): Dominican monk, friend of Fra. Angelico, and Archbishop of Florence
One of the greatest mysteries, I believe, is the tremendous capacity for joy that is unleashed in the midst of a time of overwhelming pain. The cup of sorrow seems never to be offered without it. The choice to drink from this cup of sorrow mixed with joy, this cup of life is always ours, even not to choose. A life lived by answers can know happiness but only one lived in the mystery, it seems, can know joy.
Teri H. Martin
On This Day…
Ascension Day: Christian remembrance of the Lord Jesus ascension to heaven (40 days after Easter)
Joy Harjo born 1951 in Oklahoma: American Indian poet, musician, artist
Works: Crazy Brave, How We Became Human, She Had Some Horses
Quotes: “I don’t see the desert as barren at all; I see it as full and ripe. It doesn’t need to be flattered with rain. It certainly needs rain, but it does with what it has, and creates amazing beauty.” “When I began to listen to poetry, is when I began to listen to the stones, and I began to listen to what the clouds had to say, and I began to listen to others. And I think, most importantly for all of us, then you begin to learn to listen to the soul, the soul of yourself in here, which is also the soul of everyone else.” “I started writing to save my life.”
We are born, we wax and as our season wanes, we also wane and then vanish back into the great compost of life. Joy is the water of the earth’s life. My body is parched. I thirst for the water of life; I thirst for the water of joy. Sprinkle joy down on me that my roots may grow toward paradise. Rain joy down on my body that the earth of me will be fertile. Pour joy into my heart that its armor may shatter again and again.
Ben Leichtling
On This Day…
Gary Snyder born 1930 in San Francisco: poet, essayist, lecturer, environmental activist and Pulitzer Prize recipient
Works: The Practice of the Wild, Turtle Island, Earth Household
Quotes: “As a poet I hold the most archaic values on earth…the fertility of the soil, the magic of animals, the power-vision in solitude, the terrifying initiation and rebirth, the love and ecstasy of the dance, the common work of the tribe. I try to hold both history and the wilderness in mind, that my poems may approach the true measure of things and stand against the unbalance and ignorance of our times.”
Here we are—21st century humankind created out of dust of stars and animated by the Creator’s breath. Yet our access to this inspiration, this Holy Breath, can become constricted or at least partially blocked. We become short of breath, labored with the immediate and no longer capable of drawing on the inspiration intended for this walk on Earth with God. This is not to suggest that we remove the immediate and become centered on a heavenly kingdom or a better tomorrow or a therapeutic interpretation of the past. Instead, it suggests that we recognize, know again, that this life now is imbued with life always—the Holy Breath. And this life always is alight with joy and should be the fuel for the immediate. We are each the burning bush that is not consumed. And this Holy Breath should light our lights, making us into lights and transforming our star dust into star light for the world to see.
Benjamin Martin
On This Day…
Anniversary of Christuman Ordination of Barbara Dalberg
Rabindranath Tagore born 1861 in India, died 1941: Bengali polymath who reshaped Indian literature, music and art
Works: Gitanjali, Sadham, The Gardener
Quotes: “I slept and dreamed that life was joy. I awoke and saw that life was service. I acted, and behold, service was joy.” “Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.” “Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark.”