All will come again into its strength:
the fields undivided, the waters undammed,
the trees towering and the walls built low.
And in the valleys, people as strong and varied as the land.
And no churches where God
is imprisoned and lamented
like a trapped and wounded animal.
The houses welcoming all who knock
and a sense of boundless offering
in all relations, and in you and me.
No yearning for an afterlife, no looking beyond,
no belittling of death,
but only longing for what belongs to us
and serving earth, lest we remain unused.
Translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy
Meanwhile, someplace in the world, somebody is making love and another a poem.
to fashion universes out of emptiness
“Some of his poems are as if he’s consoling God for what’s happened to his creation”
A winter solstice 2020 short stream for a Movement Medicine community
The seed of life is within us all, our dance here is mundane, strange and wonderful.
Many on the spiritual path rightfully long for a sudden point in time when a shift happens
Please enter your email and we’ll send you instructions to reset your password