Come meander with me on the pathless path of the Heart
in these anecdotal,
sometimes inspiring, sometimes personal meanderings of the Heart's opening in the every-day-ness of life...

Friday, September 27, 2019

Churning - Mark Nepo

Art by Peter Koster

Having loved and lost enough,
I'm no longer searching
just opening,

no longer trying to make sense of pain
but trying to be a soft and sturdy home
in which real things can land.

These are the irritations
that rub into a pearl.

So we can talk for a while
but then we must listen,
the way rocks listen to the sea.

And we can churn at all that goes wrong
but then we must lay all distractions
down and water every living seed.

And yes, on nights like tonight
I too feel alone.  But seldom do I
face it squarely enough
to see that it's a door
into the endless breath
that has no breather,
into the surf that human
shells call "God."

Mark Nepo

Personal note:  I've been "churning" a lot lately over the externals of life and living (like the churning waves of the sea), distracted, unable to settle into the "Listening."  The poem reminded me to step back from the things that make me "churn" inside, that keep me from hearing the quiet lapping of Grace upon the shore of my heart and just listen to its Rhythm...


Art - Peter Koster
Autumn Surf

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