There was a time I would reject those who were not of my faith. But now. my heart has grown capable of taking on all forms. It is a pasture for gazelles, an abbey for monks, a table for the Torah, Kaaba for the pilgrim. My religion is love. Which ever the route love's caravan shall take, That shall be the path of my faith,
Great Mystery, teach me how to trust my heart, my mind, my intuition my inner knowing the sense of my body and blessings of my spirit. Teach me to trust these things so that I may enter my sacred Space and love beyond my fear, and thus Walk in Balance with the passing of each glorious Sun.
You can grieve the leaves stripped from the maple, all that empty space between the bare branches, or you can bless the abundance of light shining through, buffing the pine boards of the floor until they turn the color of clover honey. You can mourn the coneflowers now shriveled and brown, say the whole world's going to ruin, or you can stand at the window watching the lively yellow blossom of a goldfinch feasting on each crown of seeds, sending more than a few back home, down into the open ground, which knows how to receive them.