The way we look at others

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Admit something:
Everyone you see, you say to them, “Love me”
Of course, you do not do so out loud; otherwise
Someone would call the cops
Still, though, think about this, this great pull in us
To connect.
Why not become the one who lives with a full moon
In each eye that is always saying,
With that sweet moon language,
What every other eye in this world is dying to hear?


photo andrew choy

Not needing to go far

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I was reminded this morning, when visiting the Cistercian monastery near my house,  that today is the feast of St Augustine. Even in his quieter time people preferred distraction to awareness, and sought happiness outside,  rather than realizing that its roots are within and in the ordinary.
Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains,
at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers,
at the vast compass of the ocean,
at the circular motions of the stars,
and they pass by themselves without wondering.

St Augustine, Confessions, c 397
photo abxbay


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The sacred is in the ordinary…

it is to be found in one’s daily life, in one’s neighbors, friends, and family, in one’s own backyard…

travel may be a flight from confronting the scared — this lesson can be easily lost.

To be looking elsewhere for miracles is to me a sure sign of ignorance that everything is miraculous

Abraham Maslow, American Psychologist, 1908 – 1970

photo shopping trollies ireland by ardfern

Seeing life as a gift

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Every morning I vow to be grateful for the precious gift of my human birth. It’s a big gift, and it includes a lot of stuff I never particularly wanted for my birthday. Some of the things in the package I wish I could exchange for a different size or color. But I want to find out what it means to be a human being — my curiosity remains intense even as I get older — so I say thanks for the whole thing. It’s all of a piece.

In thirteenth-century Japan, Zen Master Dogen wrote, ‘The Way is basically perfect and all-pervading.’  I’m already in it. We are all in it; we are made of it.

Susan Moon

photo mattbuck