Here’s the wisdom I’ve found for this week.
13:31 At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.”
13:32 He said to them, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.
13:33 Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’
13:34 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!
13:35 See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'”
Gladly committing ourselves in body and soul, utterly and completely, to the Light Within, is the beginning of true life. It is a dynamic center, a creative life that presses to birth within us. It is a Light Within which illumines the face of God and casts new shadows and new glories upon the face of humans. It is a seed stirring to life if we do not choke it. Here is the Slumbering Christ, stirring to be awakened, to become the soul we clothe in earthly form and action.
This is all I have known for certain, that God is love. Even if I have been mistaken about this or that point, God is nevertheless love. If I have made a mistake it will be plain enough; so I repent – and God is love. He is love – not he was love, nor he will be love, oh no, even that future is too slow for me – he is love.
Oh, how wonderful! Sometimes, perhaps, my repentance does not come at once, and so there is a future. But God keeps no person waiting, for he is love. Like spring water which keeps the same temperature summer and winter – so is God’s love. His love is a spring that never runs dry.
How the Rainbow Works
Mostly we occupy ocular zones, clinging
only to what we think we can see.
We can’t see wind or waves of thought,
electrical fields or atoms dancing;
only what they do or make us believe.
Look on all of life as color –
vibratile movement, heart-centered,
from invisibility to the merely visible.
Never mind what happens when one of us dies.
Where were you before you even get born?
Where am I and all the unseeable souls
we love at this moment, or loathed
before birth? Where are we right now?
Everything that ever happened either
never did or always will with variations.
Let’s put it another way: Nothing ever
happened that wasn’t dreamed, that wasn’t
sketched from the start with artful surprises.
Think of the dreamer as God, a painter,
a ham, to be sure, but a divine old master
whose medium is light and who sidesteps
tedium by leaving room both inside and outside
this picture for subjects and scenery to wing it.
Look on death as living color too: the dyeing
of fabric, submersion into a temporary sea,
a spectruming beyond the reach of sensual
range which, like time, is chained to change;
the strange notion that everything we’ve
ever done or been in until now is past
history, is gone away, is bleached, bereft,
perfect, leaving the scene clean to freshen
with pigment and space and leftover light.
See ya out there.