Ruah Bull - Spiritual Director

 As usual absorbed in a book, I was shocked by a loud close thrum and suspended emerald green- did she smell the nectar in the poem? Like an angel, or soul, the hummingbird bathing in the fountain shattered spray and light and folded the moment open. While watering the flowered sage, she stopped, suspended, sipping from the flow. I stood, joy-struck, still as an acolyte my silence more than thank you.

The fire rises in me,           and lights up my heart. Like the sun! Like the golden disk! Opening, expanding, radiant --           Yes!           -- a flame! I say again:           I don’t know           what to say! I’d fall silent -- If only I could -- but this marvel           makes my heart leap, it leaves me open mouthed           like a fool, urging me           to summon words           from my silence.    

 No thingness spoke- a Word All we can name Star  Beetle  Boy Silence the womb of all speech  all creation

I part out the thrusting branches and come in beneath  the blessed and blessing trees. Though I am silent there is singing around me. Though I am heavy, there is flight around me.

  Best of any song is bird song in the quiet, but first you have the quiet.

 Life is a garden, not a road We enter and exit through the same gate Wandering, where we go matters less than what we notice