Instructions: Speakers up. Press play.
Now get up and go away from this screen. You’ve been sitting too long. Looking too long at this flat and framed faux universe, this simulacrum of the soul’s shadow.
Go to the window. Walk to the door. Step outside. Yes, it’s hot. It’s summer. And although the world simmers it is still, for the most part, for most humans, a world at peace. Tenuous today to be sure but today is always tenuous and tomorrow is not promised.
Look around. Look around at the continuing miracle of Creation. Consider, if you care to, your miraculous place in that miracle. See that where you are is always in the center of the universe; much as every other being is the center of the same universe. Strange as it seems we live within one universe created with an infinity of centers. But then the universe is always strange as it seems. Isn’t it?
No, seriously, get up. Move away.
See the sky above and feel the earth turning below. Enduring as it always has and always will. World without end. Always.
Come back later. We’ll still be here. This passing entry is all just experimental, just practice. But then they’re all practice.
Humanity does many stupid, awful, and evil things. This much I know that I know, and I know that we all know after childhood’s end.
But humanity also does things like this and these.
I am told that it is this, our capacity to love and to express our love, is why God loves us with a love that passeth my limited understanding.
All this is why I strive to relearn prayer. This time for real.
[For variations on this theme there is this . . .]
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
From a simple prayer
That began as a whisper in a quiet place
A dream can inspire the world
A voice echo far away
The wind can take our thoughts
From the wasteland where we walk
Into a pure land
As heroes proudly stand
Like a rose among thorns
From a simple act
That began in the corner of an unlit place
A vision embraces the world
A million candles blaze
We rise above ourselves
With a dignity somehow
Reach that Promised Land
As heroes proudly stand
Like a rose that grows
In spite of it all
A simple rose among thorns
In every lifetime we find a heart
That lights a spark in the eyes of the weary
Who can lead me to a greater love
Show there’s good in us