There's such a thing as theater discipline. One player doesn't appropriate another's inventions
Everyone carries with them at least one piece to someone else's puzzle.
. . . the goal of all spiritual life is to get your ego out of the way - outwit the sucker; dissolve it; shoot it; kill it. Silence the incessant planning, organizing, running, manipulating, possessing, and processing". . . "because these activities preclude awareness of the Divine.
A mystic is anyone who has the gnawing suspicion that the apparent discord, brokenness, contradictions and discontinuities that assault us every day might conceal a hidden unity.
God puts you where God needs you. You are where you are supposed to be. The job you are doing may not be any easier on account of this, indeed it may be harder, even more urgent, but now you are centered, focused, clear. So this is where I am supposed to be. I always thought I was supposed to be somewhere else, doing something else, being someone else. But I realize now that I was mistaken. This does not mean that I can't or will not be doing something else. Just right now, I am where God wants me.
The "burning bush" was not a miracle. It was a test. God wanted to find out whether or not Moses could pay attention to something for more than a few minutes. When Moses did, God spoke. The trick is to pay attention to what is going on around you long enough to behold the miracle without falling asleep. There is another world, right here within this one, whenever we pay attention.
The first mystery is simply that there is a mystery, a mystery that can never be explained or understood, only encountered from time to time. Nothing is obvious. Everything conceals something else.
North Korea is now threatening the United States with all-out war. You can see they're stepping it up. In fact, they released 10 more photos of Kim Jong Un looking through binoculars.
That's what true love should be like-the person should be part of your soul and you should know what they're feeling all the time.
When I was a kid, my favourite time of the year when I was child was that magical first snowfall. I'd yell Yippee! Snow! and run up to the front door and shout You know the deal. . . You have to let me in now.
Hours later the blank sheet still stared at me, and I beat my fist against the desk in fury and fustration, striking it so hard my hand bled. That is how heavy a secret can become. It can make blood flow easier than ink.