Ruah Bull - Spiritual Director

The temple bell stops but the sound keeps coming out of the flowers 

 The world is now too dangerous and beautiful for anything but love. May your eyes be so blessed you see God in everyone. Your ears, so you hear the cries of the poor. May your hands be so blessed  that everything you touch is a sacrament. Your lips, so you speak nothing but the truth with love. May your feet be so blessed that you run to those who need you. And may your heart be so opened, so set on fire,  that your love, your love changes everything.

 By the earth we fall down, by the earth we rise up.

  Walk in the rain, smell flowers, stop along the way, go on a field trip, find out how things work, tell stories, say the magic words, trust the universe.

 But it's the cave I want to know. Not how He left, rose, became a something again. But what happens in the cave. Not blood, not body, not wine stamped with the memory of blood, but the space between breath and breath where we are nowhere to be found. Someone weeps outside. Someone tugs at the boulder. Someone clings to a torn lock of hair. And inside, in the still, lightless air the turning back into everything.

 The more I am hollowed by the fire, the more my ribs spread like the tree of life. The more I am washed by the tears of others, the more my heart rounds like an ocean shell. The more stories I tell of how one picks up another, the more my hands open like scoops for grain. To be what others drink, to be what others stand on, to reach what they love- we should be so lucky to be worn to this,