I love the dark hours of my being.
My mind deepens into them.
There I can find, as in old letters,
the days of my life, already lived,
and held like a legend, and understood.

Then the knowing comes: I can open
to another life that’s wide and timeless.

So I am sometimes like a tree
rustling over a gravesite
and making real the dream
of the one its living roots
embrace:

a dream once lost
among sorrows and songs.

—Rilke, Love Poems to God

A deep bow of gratitude to all of you who have commented on last week’s posts. I am touched and sustained that the words you find here are meaningful to you.

I’ve learned so much in this first week of the Chaplaincy program – not the least being the sad truth that institutionalized marginalization and the silencing of the self lives on strong and vibrant.   On a lighter note, there were indescribable moments of listening to Joanna Macy read Rilke! Barry, not a bra was left unshed in the house!

One more week to go!

Pray, burn incense, offer sacrifice!

Genju (perhaps…)