What is this power that guides us, that humbles us, that frightens and frees us? Is it a distant divinity, or the raw delight that grips us in moments of great purpose and intimacy? If the experience of god is ecstatic, can it be found in stolen moments and dreams of dreams, like the secret whispers of a soul seed or the fingerprints of grace, curving and dirtying the surfaces of our mind, like light throwing the shadows of Plato’s cave? The limit of thought is control, and the limit of control is the breath, which becomes symbolic of the creative consciousness through which we are moved as we move, and spoken as we speak. Here, we reach the threshold where the mystic and the poetry intertwine, where movement and stillness pulse, and where self and other play and celebrate as the joy and radiance of the sun and the moon.
Posted on: Thu, 31 Jul 2014 13:38:19 +0000
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