Saturday, August 31, 2013


In pain I breathe easier. The sacred child is running from the house screaming. I hear the gentleness.

Under nine layers of illusions, whatever the light, On the face of any object, in the ground itself, I see your face.

Rumi’s message is not a new one. Religion tries to convince us we are separated from our inner face, but inner truth has a way of revealing itself. We are that face and the face that senses it. We are the child that runs through life screaming to get out. We create layers of illusions, and we call them real. From that physical exercise we find the ground of our inner being.

Countless layers of distorted rhetoric dissolve as we merge one self with another. When we do, we sense the breathe of God.

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