Infinite Presence

crop.phpIt happens in the moment that we turn within. We hear the way of the path and the path of the way. The clutter of mind turned chaos fades behind life’s backdrop that the spotlight shows clearly the way. It is an unpaved path down an open road so vast the mind seeks not to know. It understands deeply that all things are available in time. Yet so quick we are rushing to hurry only to wait. The messages come when they arrive, and they rest there inside the ear of the one leaning in, listening. We birth after time creates the room and space for life; spirit a companion to this. How premature the way of ego. When we watch it closely we see the fragile nature of its bold voice. When we listen acutely we hear how it trembles. Fear sweeps through like a dust storm when we forget to close the door to ego and open it within. The road of unwanted circumstances serves to remind, to snatch back the attention it needs in order to show us more clearly the way. It is not the number of times we are snatched back from having fallen. It is the awareness of our standing and moving again in flow. That is the gift of the within. It nurtures us after collapse. It whispers an undying truth: I am always here with you.

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Sanctuary Sunday

Join me here at my new project, Sanctuary Sunday, a YouTube channel created to expound on what I share from The Path of Quiet as well as other spiritual and philosophical risings. This clip is the introduction as the project is in the initial stage of its birth. I welcome your support.

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I have loved you before time ticked forward into itself. I read the stone carved by the hands of masters chiseling these words. You’ve awakened inside me the other side of the light where it radiates from its moon-space. How vast the brightness of you. How divine do you taste on the tip of my tongue. You are the gospel. I sing your praises that you understand just how deeply these rivers go. You flow inside of me the pulse of drums beating the vibration that is life itself. Gold with red trim, you are the stoned Buddha upon which I hold my gaze, and I’ve awakened trice in a single lifetime. The Trinity guides me always there to the opening. I enter through the side where the crack gives way to the light.

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I have followed you there within and you have shown me the light of the way, that when I follow I arrive. I see every moment of my listening as a gift where all doors open to me and the key of access extended. In my wake, I reach. I contemplate you that I might share in divine intimacy. In my slumber do you reveal to me all that his Holy. ‘O Holy One! How grateful am I for the well that is you and the ocean it births within. I am filled to overflow, the pond now touching the deep end of my life and there is no going back. You are the lighted path and I continue to follow the way. You lead me always forward and beyond into the great mystery of the unknown. Even when I tremble, I tremble forward. I trust. Keep me close that I might always see what you see and hear what you hear, that I might learn to call upon Alchemy in an instant and manifest what it means to have followed and arrived at the ongoing.


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The Path of Quiet

via The American Dream Isn’t My Dream at All

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The Path of Quiet

via Markings by Dag Hammarskjold: A Response 

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The Path of Quiet

via 27||November||2017

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In time


All things rise and fall, waves rushing shore only to recede out of reach. We’d have to be in the deep end where calm abides and the feathers go unruffled. Life teaches us this. We learn in time, our own time.

It passes. Our reach out of reach, too late for the reaching. It happens in moments. Timing. It is everything, including an illusion. What is simply is. What is not also is. Interconnected. We mix inside of the mingling of the cosmos. Magic. It is the manifestation of our arriving in the same space at the same time across skies.

They change in-set. Fading into the autumn of colors. Rising inside the bright of new. Still does my eye find you through seasons. You, a season before. Me, a season in now. We cross in-bloom.

I wait.

That is what we do after planting seeds. We allow the room and space for birthing. I’ve been promised the desires of my heart and they draw nigh. I am ever-close to revealing the revelations of what is real.

We come and we go. We arrive inside the now before it sees itself as three: past, present, future. It is all one. Even before now when you birthed and knew not the knowing of what would come later, it was so.

I wait.

Much happens there in the space of receptivity, of naming it, of birthing its truth. There is the uncertainty of the unknown; there is the loss of what was had; there are the pangs of growth. Manifestation.

It is worth the journey. It is worth the wait.

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To be empty|To be full


We give that we might be connected to abundance.

Nothing is missing inside of life. Completion. We possess all that is, separation an illusion of the ego facing the truth of the mirror. It can only threaten. It cannot act. We access the All in all ways when we turn toward the within, and go. It is inside our going that we arrive at the door—cracked, never closed. To enter is a decision of the one standing there on the outside of the inside. Some knock. Some enter. Permission granted at the birth of our first exhale. Life breathed and we became one inside the vast arms of its breath. How fortunate the fuel of the food we eat! How blessed our being inside the brilliance of the blood we drink! We are sustained. Life carries us always there along the path of our going. Even through the cracked door was the energy felt, transformed us into what it means to be ready. We step now forward beyond the door of the entrance to the Way. There is only emptiness there, the sweet quiet of nothing, of All.

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Blind faith


We walk through, within

Breathing you do I become full. Light penetrates the essence of the All that we might walk and see our way through dark spaces. It shows us the way; helps us find the cracks that lead us always there.


Freedom dwells at the core of the within. Through time and space has it been revealed, a reminder of eternity. We are vast inside of life. Life breathes deeply into the lungs of the one who inhales. How close we have been to arriving at but a single breath more. Then we stopped. We paused the going in order to sit in contemplation of the Divine. Leaving behind the bag we’ve carried from generation to generation. It never belonged to you, I heard you say.

I listened.

The message whispered is that of the Way, and receptive am I always to the pull of your press, to the tethering of my soul to your hand. You hold me.

I am held.


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