Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows
Like harmony in music; there is a dark
Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles
Discordant elements, makes them cling together
In one society.
— William Wordsworth
No matter how much of a somber show the modern world becomes, there will always be an unbroken stillness out there by the waters at dawn. And the trees will still whisp in the wind and the birds will still flutter in the sky and the lilacs will still rise from the soil of springtime meadows. Regardless of it all, there are still sacred places to escape to when the blood begins to falter. Go there. Often. Breathe in the centuries. Rejoice in your solitide. Take pleasure in the sublime silence. Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher. As the great Joseph Campbell reminded us: "Your sacred space is where you can find yourself again and again. You really don’t have a sacred space, a rescue land, until you find somewhere to be that’s not a wasteland, some field of action where there is a spring of ambrosia— a joy that comes from inside, not something external that puts joy into you—a place that lets you experience your own will and your own intention and your own wish so that, in small, the Kingdom is there. I think everybody, whether they know it or not, is in need of such a place."
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Thomas Merton - Stranger
When no one listens
To the quiet trees
When no one notices
The sun in the pool.
Where no one feels
The first drop of rain
Or sees the last star
Or hails the first morning
Of a giant world
Where peace begins
And rages end:
One bird sits still
Watching the work of God:
One turning leaf,
Two falling blossoms,
Ten circles upon the pond.
One cloud upon the hillside,
Two shadows in the valley
And the light strikes home.
Now dawn commands the capture
Of the tallest fortune,
The surrender
Of no less marvelous prize!
Closer and clearer
Than any wordy master,
Thou inward Stranger
Whom I have never seen,
Deeper and cleaner
Than the clamorous ocean,
Seize up my silence
Hold me in Thy Hand!
Now act is waste
And suffering undone
Laws become prodigals
Limits are torn down
For envy has no property
And passion is none.
Look, the vast Light stands still
Our cleanest Light is One!
When I read this poem this morning, I can’t help but think that it serves as an applicable application to the upcoming political climate. Politics does not know the sunrise. Political parties do not know six am.