SB is trying to lure me to FLA. She took this Christmas picture for me. Don’t tell her: it might work.
Late, late sitting practice this am, then every thought/feeling/sense of You flips back to me. Am I talking to you or myself? Can I parse the difference? Whichever, paraphrasing Rita Moreno’ ask on “Sesame Street” many years ago, “Just keep asking, Star, baby.”
Lord, I wish to find often that quiet space in the cosmos of my body where soul resides and can at times touch the hem of your garment…some bit of your Divine Being. I confess that I hide self doubt and fear of being overwhelmed, which surely must close the door. Yet I read accounts of people who have such experiences, not with envy but with yearning. May I have patience to wait and learn; may I learn especially to find the still emptiness where they say you can be found.
God bless us everyone especially as we approach the commemoration of your special entry into this trembling, beautiful world. May the Spirit of Christmas—peace on earth, goodwill to man—shelter us in this last week before the Day.
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