“I am that I am.”… And so we must all be.
Blessed are you, Holy One.
This morning’s quietude is like a refreshing brook that I can dip my toes into.
“Write” —You tell me.
But nothing else about it.
How? Or to what avail?
Not for my ego—which I catch trying to hijack these words so often.
But for the gratitude temple that I am erecting…
Brick by brick
Day by day.
For an offering.
For Our bonding.
For Your Love.
All of which expands without expectations
And contracts when a “term” is applied.
Just write—like all the others who ever have and ever will—who commune with the source of their souls through the gift of language and letter and raw unfiltered honesty.
Ok…honestly then, I am in my “red days” the Autumn time of my month.
These days are…what they are. As am i.
Despite my ugliness and outbursts and impatience… I know You love me.
Despite my overthinking…
—I know the center of my being each day from the top of a mountain spring that dwells in the innerscape of my heart.
Where Your full-force wash of love (like a waterfall) pours down on my shoulders and anoints each cell of me being with remembrance and knowing.
My feet are clean when I reach your doorstep.
The priestess lends me her shoes.
My eyes are open
My ears, my tongue, my hands–belong to You–my Maker.
Blessed be thy name.
~Amen
