Ruah Bull - Spiritual Director

 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.

 I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love, For love would be love for the wrong thing; there is yet faith But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.