Out Beyond Ideas

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field.  I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense.
Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Becoming Luminous
Inspired by the painting, "Becoming Luminous," by Marika Popovits

Becoming Luminous

Despite turbulent seas

aflame with wave upon wave of imploded desires gouged in history’s scar tissue

layered across terra nostra, washed in blood and seething water,

beauty’s enchantments still flourish in these green hills of our Earth home

where we struggle to reveal how healing takes softer, subtler shapes from shared breath

and outstretched limbs of coexistence, calling us now to dance a new community of being.

We rise through this our suffering. We rise from loam to light. 

Lux aeterna, the spiraling pool of luminescence in the heart of all being, the light

that crawled out of primordial seas and flew its way to the human soul, the light

that could not be extinguished by every hell we invented

until we were ready to come home, to bear our breasts

in final exaltation of the light that we are – at last made visible by the light

that magnifies the miraculous conjunction of Heaven and Earth

and which shines its guiding radiance

on the fierce journey to becoming luminous.

James O'Dea
How I Go to the Woods
Ordinarily I go to the woods alone, with not a single friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore unsuitable.

I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of praying, as you no doubt have yours.

Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds, until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing.


If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much.
Mary Oliver
Who We Truly Are
Slow your self down.

Drop deep into
The soul of the world,
Where the words are already written
And the future is already spoken.

We are, cause we are, cause we are. 
(Cosmos we are. Yes, stars!)

This night is getting late
And it's still just morning.

Our task is the incarnate fully
To discover our soul’s gifts
And deliver them to the world.

At the still point, we remember.
Our wild roots.
Our ancient selves.
Life's original nature.

And who we truly are.
By Joshua Gorman (from the liminal space of late nights and newborn humans)
Soul receives from soul
Soul receives from soul that knowledge, therefore not by book
    nor from tongue.
If knowledge of mysteries come after emptiness of mind, that is
    illumination of heart.
Be Lost in the Call
Lord, said David, since you do not need us,
why did you create these two worlds?

Reality replied: O prisoner of time,
I was a secret treasure of kindness and generosity,
and I wished this treasure to be known,
so I created a mirror: its shining face, the heart;
its darkened back, the world;
The back would please you if you've never seen the face.

Has anyone ever produced a mirror out of mud and straw?
Yet clean away the mud and straw,
and a mirror might be revealed.

Until the juice ferments a while in the cask,
it isn't wine. If you wish your heart to be bright,
you must do a little work.

My King addressed the soul of my flesh:
You return just as you left.
Where are the traces of my gifts?

We know that alchemy transforms copper into gold.
This Sun doesn't want a crown or robe from God's grace.
He is a hat to a hundred bald men,
a covering for ten who were naked.

Jesus sat humbly on the back of an ass, my child!
How could a zephyr ride an ass?
Spirit, find your way, in seeking lowness like a stream.
Reason, tread the path of selflessness into eternity.

Remember God so much that you are forgotten.
Let the caller and the called disappear;
be lost in the Call.
"Love is a Stranger", Kabir Helminski Threshold Books, 1993
There is a community of the spirit
There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street
and being the noise.
Drink all your passion,
and be a disgrace.
Close both eyes
to see with the other eye.
From Essential Rumi by Coleman Barks