“At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is, But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards, Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.”
~ T.S. Eliot, from Burnt Norton, Four Quartets
What if you thought of it as the Jews consider the Sabbath—the most sacred of times?
“Some of his poems are as if he’s consoling God for what’s happened to his creation”
Many on the spiritual path rightfully long for a sudden point in time when a shift happens
Meanwhile, someplace in the world, somebody is making love and another a poem.
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