Ruah Bull - Spiritual Director

 How ironic -  that our highest calling is humility to give quietly to pray behind closed doors to live simply to be like the lilies of the field and the birds of the air, to carry our crosses daily to choose the road less traveled to cherish the ordinary day. The only thing we need to do with wild extravagance- is love.

 I go to the mountain side of the house to cut saplings, and clear a view to snow on the mountain. But when I look up, saw in hand, I see a nest clutched in the uppermost branches. I don't cut that one. I don't cut the others either. Suddenly, in every tree, an unseen nest where a mountain would be.

 The temple hanging over the water is anchored on pillars that nameless workers placed in the mud long ago. So never forget that the mud and the hands of those workers are part of the temple, too. What frames the sacred is just as sacred. The dirt that packs the plant is the beginning of beauty. And those who haul the piano on stage are the beginning of music. And those who are stuck, though they dream of soaring, are the ancestors of our wings.