Earth-Life and Soul-Life

Rosemary: Fabric November 10 2009


To prepare for an office visit,

I take off and fold my clothes.

I touch the fabrics, rough and smooth,

Heavy, lighter,

Hard to fold or crumpling easily.

I marvel at this invention from prehistory,

Strands of fiber--

Gifts of plants, animals -- even earthstuff –

Woven into warmth, strength, and shelter.

Without fabric, we are weak, naked, vulnerable.

We humans, with our brains and souls, could not survive

On earth without the whole planet’s help.

I regard my pile of clothes with awe,

Grateful for what the Universe has given me.



Rosemary's  Reflections:

Abraham’s word of wisdom for today: whatever we think about for a few seconds vibrates with us and becomes a part of our lives. Our soul-minds create the way we experience life in the physical world. I think of you, and you come to life here, within me. I envision peace as I meditate, and sink into the joy of unity with all that is. I feel small, chilled, and naked for a moment in the doctor’s office, but it makes me realize, intensely, the ways in which the Universe supports me – supports us all – with its bounty, making physical life easier and more comfortable, allowing mind and spirit to focus on the truth of soul-life rather than on the minute to minute demands of the body. On the radio this morning, as I heard a “Meditation on a Beloved Place” by Tchaikowsky and resonated to the familiar wordless feeling in that music, I struggled to open a can of cat food despite the injury to my dominant, stronger hand. To open a can, one must be able to hold the opening tool! Another reminder of the body’s vulnerability. But the beautiful music kept my mind and spirit in a space of beauty and gratitude.

Through these somersaults between physical and spiritual reality, I realized how you found joy as you approached dying – experiencing physical pains and indignities peripherally while remaining attuned within to eternal and universal Truth and Beauty – a gift of Grace.



Ellen: EYE OF A NEEDLE

The next eye

Of the next needle

Of my life:



To stay

In this ineluctably pained body

With nowhere to go



Except through the tiny eye of agony

To find bliss

On the other side.


Revised 5/14/96