proud nowhere of earth’s most prodigious night blossoms a newborn babe:around him,eyes - gifted with every keener appetite than mere unmiracle can quite appease - humbly in their imagined bodies kneel (over time space doom dream while floats the whole perhaps less mystery of paradise)
mind without soul may blast some universe to might have been,and stop ten thousand stars but not one heartbeat of this child;nor shall even prevail a million questionings against the silence of his mother’s smile
- whose only secret all creation sings
E. E. Cummings 1894-1962
The seed of life is within us all, our dance here is mundane, strange and wonderful.
Where do you see a window you can open for a subtle sacrament to slip into your day?
What if you thought of it as the Jews consider the Sabbath—the most sacred of times?
to fashion universes out of emptiness
A winter solstice 2020 short stream for a Movement Medicine community
A Sign of Our Times or How the Black Madonna Is Shaking Us Up for the Twenty-First Century
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