we whisper to the sky
hoping for the Divine
we long for that which we cannot hold
and our arms ache
in the grasping
of everything that we cannot keep
Dreams; such splendor. A door to a place next door that we so rarely open. Except in drifting night, when our intellect slides away, we step through without even knocking; for it is home. It is that place we all begin. A place we know since in the waters and is real to us there, where we can see before our biology gives us eyes. This is the kind of seeing that is true and real. We walk in the yard of next door but never go into the house until the last of our breath draws out the pathway to that second door. Three steps and a small porch hunker down in front of that house and hold an anchor there; in that place of dreams.
Much of life is the movement of touch. When things come together they bring change. A unity, however fleeting, makes the island of self greater. It harkens back to the original unity. The time before the self arose from the waters of the Divine. And always the touch is seeking to return. Of the same stuff, all things are made. The same ache of emptiness screeches through the darkness of shadowed and huanted souls. The dark gorge, the Divine womb; the start and end into all time. Before creation there was the law which governed the creating and rules all of which exists. Without God, creation continues. Without the law, all that it ceases to be. And now, know that the Divine, the Law of all that is, has no name. Many a crown has been set upon its head, but none can shine equal to its splendor. The true light and the treu darkness. With out name it is the name of all things. A given name is empty and without meaning.
It is This.
This is an excellent documentary that opens the door to consideration of some of the most basic christian teachings. This post really isn’t a review of the documentary, but rather a discussion of the implications and ideas presented within it. Read the rest of this entry