Ruah Bull - Spiritual Director

 Whatever it is, I cannot understand it, although gratitude stubbornly overcomes me until I am redicred to tears.

 This, then, is salvation: When we marvel at the beauty of created things and praise their beautiful Creator.

 The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent  world in itself.

 An awe so quiet     I don't know when it began.   A gratitude had begun to sing in me. Was there  some moment dividing song from no song? When does dewfall begin? When does night fold its arms over our hearts to cherish them?  When is daybreak?  

 I know this happiness is provisional: the looming presences- great suffering great fear- withdraw only into peripheral vision: but ineluctable this shimmering of wind in the blue leaves: this flood of stillness widening the lake of sky: this need to dance, this need to kneel: this mystery.