Reflections

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hopeFor hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without loveFor love would be love of the wrong thing;

The earth is full of thresholds where beauty awaits the wonder of our gaze.

And all shall be well andAll manner of thing shall be wellWhen the tongues of flames are in-foldedInto the crowned knot of fireAnd the fire and the rose are one.

No wonder the prophet weeps yet –We begin again but not innocent…And we feebly watch for you and wait.

On the Feast of St.

Am I not here, I, who am your Mother?

Anxiety is the handmaiden of creativity― T.

Let us plant dates even though those who plant them will never see them.

Advent Waiting for This Moment Life was always a matter of waiting for the right moment to act.

The opposite of talking isn’t listening.