Dear friend:-
You're here finally and I bow to the one that brought you here. You're here because you chose to be here at this time. You're here to celebrate beauty through words we speak, through deep silence. We might call them poetry or songs or chants. It does not matter what we call them. What matters most is you're here. These words come through us like flowers come through plants, like the rains pour from the sky. May we all become the light we spread, the beauty we speak. Blessings.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
The burning
A dry tree branch that was flung onto the fire was popping and bursting and crackling in great Pain. A tremendous noise came out of him. The fire stopped burning for a while and asked the tree if it hurts. The tree said:
Burning is not fun at all. But what hurts most is the separation from my mother, the source.
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