And where to all these highways go
Now that we are free?
Why are the armies marching still
That were coming home to me?
O lady with your legs so fine
O stranger at your wheel
You are locked into your suffering
And your pleasures are the seal
One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.
We have to be utterly broken before we can realize that it is impossible to better the truth. It is the truth that we deny which so tenderly and forgivingly picks up the fragments and puts them together again.
The political campaign won’t tire me, for I have an advantage. I can be myself.
“I learned one thing.”
“Never to go on trips with anyone you do not love.”
Disappointment is a good sign of basic intelligence. It cannot be compared to anything else: it is so sharp, precise, obvious and direct. If we can open, then we suddenly begin to see that our expectations are irrelevant compared with the reality of the situations we are facing.
You have everything in you that Buddha has, that Christ has, you’ve got it all. But only when you start to acknowledge it is it going to get interesting. Your problem is you’re afraid to acknowledge your own beauty. You’re too busy holding on to your own unworthiness. You’d rather be a schnook sitting before some great man. That fits in more with who you think you are. Well, enough already. I sit before you and I look and I see your beauty, even if you don’t.
Money has become incorporeal, far transcending tangible possessions, a vibrant all-persuasive element, almost independent of the possessor, an atmosphere to which there is no longer any contrast. Now it is a question of finding the new poverty for this new “wealth,” all that having withdrawn far into the invisible; . . . real poverty must be born again anew inside the soul and will perhaps not be Franciscan at all.
Has something we published moved you? Fired you up? Did we miss the mark? Send A Letter