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Turning Back on Heaven

There was a soft wind this morning at 4 a.m. – rustling in trees, sighing over the hills – and I walked through it with the dog, happy and wordless, as if at any moment it might pick me up and carry me through darkness all the way to the sea. In the forest, just shy of the brook, I stopped while falling maple leaves whispered as they settled on my shoulders.

How sweet these moments are! And yet how quickly I categorize them, reduce them to words, squeeze them into blog posts . . . I am like a child who, given a thousand presents, instantly comes up with a list for a thousand more.

How patient Jesus is . . .

There is no life outside of Heaven. Where God created life, there life must be. In any state apart from Heaven life is an illusion (T-23.II.19:1-3).

I am given the Kingdom and trade it for my own wordy dream. It must be that at some level I think I can do it better. You think your autumn morning is beautiful, God? Check out my mad creation skills . . .

When will we see that God is here and the gift is given? Nothing more is needed – not now, not ever. How many more mornings until that one arrives where I do not come back to this wordy body but follow the wind into the light beyond the darkness?

Jesus waits: extends his hand: and still I hesitate. Still I think: one more poem, one more sentence . . .

{ 4 comments… add one }
  • zrinka October 11, 2013, 7:59 pm

    Dear Sean, I find the question of Creativity and *importance or non-importance of being creative* very interesting. If every man is Creator of his reality, then understanding our own creative process is essential. It applies on Arts of course, but also on everything else. Living is creating. Illusions or bricks, it doesn’t matter. Creativity is in the heart of Life. Like a flaming spear:) It gives us pain and joy. We can use our creativity to satisfy our ego or to serve. When we serve, we rest with our hearts in Stillness, while our hands are doing the job:) We can do what must be done, when we are still. In my everyday life, I see it as a choice between creating stillness or creating (something) with my ego. In every moment, this choice arises. Choosing Nothing that leads to Something or Something that leads to Nothing. Well, it’s nothing and something both ways:)

    In my life, I still create stillness, so I strive to choose her, and let her lead me. I have trust. But whatever I create, I wish it to be pure. To be a necessity:) Necessity means those things that have true life in me, my Sun, my being. Necessity is where I can die to my*self. I have no desire of creating anything that isn’t free. in spirit. Of course, although the stillness grows, I still enslave myself, because … well because I am human (!) and I see waves ∼∼∼ instead of straight lines:)

    I always loved Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet. Have you read it? A wonderful book with many helpful thoughts for writers. When I was at college, I didn’t really understand what Rilke meant with saying, *that you write because you MUST*. But it touched me deeply. For the past few years, I came to understand something similar. I always ask myself, does this have its roots in the deepest place of my heart? Why MUST I do it? And, a bit of a paradox, is it FREE? Must and free at the same time:)

    From Rilke, Letters “There is only one way: Go within. Search for the cause, find the impetus that bids you write. Put it to this test: Does it stretch out its roots in the deepest place of your heart? Can you avow that you would die if you were forbidden to write? Above all, in the most silent hour of your night, ask yourself this: Must I write? Dig deep into yourself for a true answer. And if it should ring its assent, if you can confidently meet this serious question with a simple, “I must,” then build your life upon it. It has become your necessity. Your life, in even the most mundane and least significant hour, must become a sign, a testimony to this urge.” “A work of art is good if it has arisen out of necessity. That is the only way one can judge it.”

    And one another pasus from the Letters, which is not directly related to the question of creativity, but I think speaks quite beautifully about questions many of us ask daily:)

    “Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you. For those who are near you are far away… and this shows that the space around you is beginning to grow vast…. be happy about your growth, in which of course you can’t take anyone with you, and be gentle with those who stay behind; be confident and calm in front of them and don’t torment them with your doubts and don’t frighten them with your faith or joy, which they wouldn’t be able to comprehend. Seek out some simple and true feeling of what you have in common with them, which doesn’t necessarily have to alter when you yourself change again and again; when you see them, love life in a form that is not your own and be indulgent toward those who are growing old, who are afraid of the aloneness that you trust…. and don’t expect any understanding; but believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance, and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.”

  • Jaycee October 12, 2013, 10:26 am

    and yet………..the beat goes on. When (in time) the ancient song becomes a present Love then in stillness is remembrance of Hymn of God. This wordy body is still……..

    • Sean Reagan October 12, 2013, 12:46 pm

      It does go on, doesn’t it? But ever so slowly the beat changes and yes – in time – we will finally step outside time and be still. This wordy body can’t wait . . .

  • Jaycee October 12, 2013, 5:45 pm

    I’m with you. This wordy body can’t wait either……gentle patience

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