This is where all life will lead if we but listen to the
song.
Life like riding on a current of God’s breath to peace.
We are God’s seeds meant to scatter and where we land we are
meant to create beauty and abundance.
We have no need to control the movement of the breath; we
only need to submit to it gladly.
O to know that when the soul is allowed to rise that she
will always submit and in her submission the body will truly find love and rest
in quietude.
O to listen to that inner most wisdom that whispers to us
about freedom, that reveals to us that no matter what deeds the body has done,
that the soul is ever waiting to rise.
We are loved beyond measure and no earthly love can hope to
duplicate the passion found in God but at best can merely strive to emulate it
despite constant shortcoming.
The soul she leads us always to simplicity and to the gift
of creation. She knows only the
tremendous beauty of God’s many treasures and through her we are moved to
discovery.
The soul she will dance us out of the church, gently closing
the bible with a kiss, and we will then be found in our Beloved’s truest home
and among our Beloved’s children. The trees
will reveal themselves as our Ancestors, the rivers as our bloodlines and the
soft earth the belly of our forgiving Mother.
The soul will peel away the illusion of loneliness as we step into our
place in God’s family.
How is it I can tell you these things and you not turn
away? The desire to help you to see is
not born of the need to save you but found in the soul’s dwelling place, the
heart, born of love and the desire to share spectacular love with you.
Visions of God are within us, such art as we have never
seen. No artist able to capture the
nature of the subject through brushstrokes or the sculptors’ blade. But for those who have remembered; who have
set aside the body in favour of the soul, who have commissioned the body to be
the tool of the soul, the visions have ignited the fires of grace and in
humility they find their way to their knees.
No wonder the vow of silence for when trying to convey what
the soul sees, the movement of the lips and the tongue are futile, words are
like the grunts of beasts and the effort to speak them painful. It is the speaking that reminds us we are
only human and in this flesh rendered incapable of being the artist.
So forgive your body of its shortcomings and have no
expectation of it to be other than the tool, a marvelous and wondrous tool,
through which the soul can find a home for a time and plant her garden for God.
