How marvelous all this is, we are the Light of a million joys, living the Infinite Light that Lives as the very Life of each and everyone of us. The joyful Child is found, and we run with it – and play, right here in the sweet glorious meadow of our own carefree essence. We Live again, as the Light of Knowing this Immaculate Heart, Heart, the Soul, the Life of us all. We are Living this Magical Light of Life, we are carried by this River of Love. The Child is Real. As we Live from this Knowing It becomes obvious to us. What is true and Real cannot be lost. The Light of Life is Here, right here. We find the Child and then we know. It is you, it is mine it is this wind blown freedom of an irresistible and effortless Love. The Child leads to the open meadow where we look up at the glimmering periwinkle sky, and we hear the sounds in the happy laughter of the flowers and the trees. This morning is simply glorious here. I’ve never heard so many different bird calls, singing and chirping, cooing and wooing with fresh bright songs of Joy.
‘The Child is Real. As we Live from this Knowing It becomes obvious to us.’ — ‘…right here in the sweet glorious meadow of our own carefree essence.’đź’•
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Sandy, in these strange days, thank you, for your wonderful words, always evoking fond memories and joyous feelings, which, on this occasion— when as a child at school we would create one of those symmetry paintings: squeezing some paint onto one side of a piece of paper, folding the second side over the paint, and pressing our hand over the top sheet then, with curiosity we waited to see what the outcome would be, we would open up the folded paper to reveal, usually, the symmetrical design of a butterfly, and everyone’s butterfly was uniquely their own.
And at another art lesson, as a collective, we had to create a little street, each of us working with cardboard and paper mache to build trees, shops, a post office, a playground, lamposts, etc…excited to see how it would all turn out.
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July
Glowing. Wide, straight path,
a courtyard, and garden
swallows skim through the air over
an orange range of hills and wild cypress trees—
the heart of the traveler:
sun in July.
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Haiku (â„–6)
Ripples through water
nodding white lotus flower
cygnet imitates.
Exquisite, wonderful, yes, thank you for your beautiful inspirations. They are rich and tender and alive with the Child you are. Joyful Light they are –