“If you want your dream to be, build it slow and surely, small beginnings greater ends, heartfelt work grows purely. If you want to live life free, take your time go slowly, do few things but do them well, simple joys are holy. Day by day, stone by stone, build your secret slowly. Day by day, you’ll grow too, you’ll know heaven’s glory.” Donovan: lyrics to San Damiano from the St. Francis film, Brother Sun, Sister Moon.
The air trembles, the earth is quiet, heaven and nature merge, and the field of infinite power and consciousness waits. This is a perfect moment, and what the Lord chooses or not chooses is held in His almighty hand. For I am wrapped in His ecstasy, and there is nowhere I would rather be. He wants me to be His witness, a reporter from the front lines of God-consciousness—to speak only the truth of what He gives me—what He reveals to me and makes me experience.
I had not intended to write these words, but out they came with His power. I had not intended to write the lyrics to Donovan’s song, but He put them into my mind. And once they were expressed, I had thought to write about doing His work in the coming year; day by day, stone by stone. Then, I found myself standing on the threshold of Eternity; He gave me the above experience and He made me write it out. And this is His way, at least it is with me. He does not care to consult me in His work, rather He likes me to get out of His way and let Him do it. And whether I look the fool or express His greatest truths is not up to me—for it is only He, only He.
To stand on the threshold of eternity and sing His song is all there is. And if my voice, my mind, and my heart cannot contain His melody, then He makes me mute and expresses Himself through the great Silence. For, He is the Way, He is the Life, He is all in all; there is nothing but He. These words are stillborn unless He gives them life, and life eternal. For I am His—heart, mind and soul—He is my Beloved, my infinite Beloved. Oh, how He rants, and makes me His sacrifice.
This threshold trembles with His power, and it is awe-inspiring. What my Lord is cannot be fitted into the small compartments of words—I can only point, so that others are directed toward His Infinite Presence. I am but His minion, and the “I” is crushed into His holy dust. I am destroyed by Him, yet I live—such is the great paradox of His creation. “Do not be afraid,” He whispers. For all is well, all is He; all is a sacred sacrifice for His sacred feast, for He consumes what He creates, and all becomes He—all merges into His Bliss.
None of what I write here can fit into a box, nor a maxim, not even into thought—but must be experienced to be appreciated. For these are His thoughts, and they are mighty and beyond mind, for they are not my own. He must reveal their truth, their essence if they are to be truly known—for I stand on the threshold of Eternity.