I’ve been on quite a hiatus it seems for months and apologize for starting a blog and then withdrawing from pursuing it. However, I’ve needed to explore more deeply the place from which I write, the source of my writing, or actually, the Source of my writing. I don’t pretend to write revelation of God’s inner words to me, but each of us in our deepest truest self is hidden with Christ in God. Lately my prayer has been–a strange prayer I admit–My God, fill the stage. Command the performance, Rewrite the script. I guess John the Baptist got it right: that I may disappear and Jesus may appear. Something Adam and Eve got wrong…they were already hidden in God, in a garden of delights and peace where they lived in spiritual communion with their Creator, in an inner joy that radiated their union with God, where each and every experience and encounter lifted their hearts again in adoration and praise of the One who loved them, walking with them in the quiet of the evening. Yet, still they sought to seize divinity, to increase themselves at the expense of their secure childhood in God’s plan.

I’ve been struggling to get my mind around how our mental constructs get in the way of our spiritual growth and ultimately of our union with God. It is a grandiose project and I have a 100 page outline to prove it. In the end, however, it is not a matter of understanding what’s happening or should happen in one’s relation with God.

It is more a matter of: immersion in the moment-by-moment experience of what God is doing, seeing how experiences are opening wide windows and doors to closets filled with skeletons of habits, memories, mindlessness, hatreds, fears, which deaden us and ultimately could kill us if we haven’t the courage to take each one by the hand and sit down with it, in a sense “digesting” our relationship with it, to make a journey through it and beyond it to know that we are more than that skeleton, we are taken up by the Body and Heart of our Divine Savior and Master. Yes, I know that was a run on sentence. Following the threads of divinity, so fragile and tenuous as they appear in our consciousness is like a run on sentence. And then Silence.

As I begin gently to take up the question of how we TOUCH THE SUNRISE I’d like to offer gently questions you might find it helpful to reflect on: Who are you? Who do you think you are? What do you think about yourself? What do you wish were different? What do you really like about yourself?

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