The Way The World Looks.

[Guest guest]

One of the tests of how connected we are with soul self is to discern

what impact the world is having on us in this moment of awareness.

Whether we are seeing something alien about it, or disclosing

something of ourselves within it.

Looking into the world is part of our internal inquiry also. Like

looking at a drawing of a scene being hurriedly sketched by a street

artist we commission to paint for our approval. We assume the city or

landscape to be a fair reproduction of something we know. The same

with people, it is unsettling to see our friends turn up, looking how

we feel about them. Knowing they are a snapshot, of this internal

decision making. We should wait to see what is appearing before we

take out the art box and color them with our own emotional view.

It is a wise-child that knows how to see the world as itself in

disarray or array. It is a peaceful child that knows what it sees, is

the content of her soul, dancing with the soul of the world and

playing the tune she whistles.

If we lift up a stone to see God, and recoil at the creepy crawlies,

maybe we should let go of our view of holiness for a moment. An

infant will just as happily chew on a worm as it would upon a juicy

apple. It does not see a worm in the apple, but quite easily sees the

apple in the worm, and so enjoys the juice of the experience.

As a little kid, I would pull the wings off of insects to see if they

could still fly. It was not until I was told that this was a bad

thing, that insects began to bug me as bad things. Until then, I was

able to discover myself in them. So I had to go looking for my own

wings, that this piety had made invisible.

In those simple days. I would spend hours proudly making mud pies. I

was disgusted that my mother could not bring herself to eat one. She

would spit on her hands and rub the dirt off my face, but always

found an excuse not to eat the mud food. Back then, I figured there

was a difference, and slowly the earth and the way I could devour it

all at once, became tasteless.

A long season of delving in my own garden, has uncovered new wonder in

this world. Again I can go out looking for my face in the leaf and the

sky, and watch my own divinity reflected back. Yes, and to see my own

devils jumping like wingless crickets. This way of seeing is a game

for children, who love their own mud pies. Now that I know that the

earth of this worlds soul, is one with the earth of my own. I try not

to paint it so quickly, but allow it to reveal myself the way I am,

and not what I would it be.

It is good to lose the script. To let the play go on without censure

or amendments. This worlds beauty can be seen looking back at us,

when we allow the heart to be legitimate, and not a back street love

affair we would impose on perfection. Whenever we are a forgetfulness

of past seeing, the world presents us with the gifts we give it.

The Beloved has turned you around, and looks the way She always did

before you thought to be religious. She has given you the kiss of Her

life to pass on to everyone. A laid back feather in your cap tickles

the sky. When you opened up like the sun, nobody saw you leave and

arrive again.

Love

eric

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All works and compositions found on the page submitted by

ErcAshfrd (AT) aol (DOT) com Are the Copyright of E. J. Ashford.

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