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ORIGIN’S BLANK CANVAS OF SILENCE REMAINS
BELONGING TO THE CORE OF CREATION
ew
5:36 AM-4/29/20
for hope would be hope for the wrong thing;
wait without love,
for love would be love of the wrong thing;
there is yet faith,
but the faith and the love are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought,
for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light,
and the stillness the dancing.
T. S. Eliot
https://psychcentral.com/blog/when-happiness-isnt-a-choice/
that even my best attempts are going to result in backward motion.
Last month, when I swam across the Chesapeake Bay,
at times there were cross currents and headwinds that made it feel
as though you were swimming in a washing machine.
However, every time I did that I swallowed
a gush of diesel-tasting water and hurt my shoulder.
I made better progress when I kept my head in the water,
forgot about where I was going or how far to land,
and just focused on one stroke after another.
the less thinking required.
Maybe Eliot maybe knew something about severe depression
when he said just be still, don’t think.
Soon the darkness will be the light,
and the stillness the dancing.
Therese J. Borchard
https://psychcentral.com/blog/when-happiness-isnt-a-choice/
https://thereseborchard.com
https://www.everydayhealth.com/columns/therese-borchard-sanity-break/how-to-tidy-up-and-spark-joy-in-your-life/
https://www.everydayhealth.com/columns/therese-borchard-sanity-break/quotes-to-motivate-you-to-keep-going/
AFTERNOON
LAID BARE DENUDED "What IS, simply IS." "This giving up..." MILESTONE April 29, 2019
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NAME AND FORM
Don’t call Me “The Beloved”, She said.
Don’t call Me “The Beautiful One”.
Don’t call Me anything at all.
Don’t imagine Me Transcendent, She said.
Don’t imagine Me as Immanent.
Don’t imagine Me at all.
Into the depths of your Deepest Interiority.
Vanish, into the Essence of what you Are.
Don’t call it Soul, She said.
Don’t call it Atman.
Don’t call it anything at all.
Don’t imagine it as spirit, She said.
Don’t imagine a formless “something”.
Don’t imagine it at all.
And, no longer existing as one existent,
Exist in the Ecstasy of Nonexistence.
When you return from that Heaven,
Give Me a name, if you must.
But do not insist that others name Me so,
Or imagine Me in the way you have,
For neither of these are what I Am.
I am no word spoken or image imagined,
But Am, above all else, Love.
Forgetting this…
You have remembered nothing,
And have forgotten everything.
www.GardenOfTheBeloved.com
www.facebook.com/InTheGardenOfTheBeloved