Friday, March 5, 2010

The Soul's Sleight of Hand

Nothing is required but inner silence; and that is indispensable. Safety and peace are owned from within. Everything I thought I wanted is given by that Great Silent Beauty: divine union, contemplatio, Holy Eucharist.

That paltry faker, enlightenment, the fools gold of the new age, can be thrown in the dirt. I will take the abundance of Silence, the rich beauty of peace, the holy instant of eternal life.

The silent song of my soul gushes forth into that infinity of all; the eternity of an instant. I was there. I am here.

Who needs a mountain, a pristine wilderness, a forest, a private island. Here, wrapped in freeways and jet airplanes and other people's rap, I exist; and nothing more.

The footfalls of the runner slapped against the wet pavement. How far had the ghost of a woman come? Where was the shadow of a person going. The soul's sleight of hand never stops running.

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