Ruah Bull - Spiritual Director

 The thoughts of the earth are my thoughts. The voice of the earth is my voice. All that belongs to the earth belongs to me. All that surrounds the earth surrounds me. It is lovely indeed, It is lovely indeed

 If the doors of perception are cleansed. the entire Cosmos is your lost and found Beloved, the Original Face of primordial Beauty,  forever and forever and endlessly forever. And in the face  of that stunning beauty, you will completely swoon into your own death.

 In a quiet corner of the supermarket parking lot an employee in red t-shirt kneels on a piece of cardboard, bows, then rises to speak the holy words, his view of Mecca unimpeded by the dumpster and wooden fence.

 The silence of a mystic is the space between words of a poem no space   no meaning no meaning   no mystery no mystery   no music no music   no poem

 Not a single soul lacks a pathway to you. There's no stone, no flower- not a single piece of straw- lacking your existence. In every particle of the world, the moon of your love causes the heart of each atom to glow.

  The air sweet and tangy reaches deep into lungs as leaves shuffle  like dancers waiting for the opening curtain Squirrels scoot for one last sunflower seed the birds not so courageous  or foolish There is movement in this kind of waiting not just the rushed grab- firewood, bread, gin- but a restless poise  as Spirit rushes across the roiling waters All waiting for the cleanse that will flood, often shatter, and we pray renew The land breathes Nothing else smells like this