LOVE IT ALL
I love Jesus. I love the Pagan Solstice Christmas pine. I love Madonna Mushroom. I love Goddess Shakti. I love the 2nd Century Gnostic Valentinus who said, "The true Virgin Mother is mystical eternal silence." Love my wild Buddha-heart. Love the perfect consistency of my contradictions. Love luscious berries of fire and mistletoe clustered on the cross of paradox. Love the tree of life in the garden of my body: I am the apple. Love the newborn sun, and what my body says to my spirit: "Every particle of me is made of Mother Mater Matter Dust, each atom a cathedral where pilgrims arrive from the stars to celebrate the miracle of flesh. O my soul, You irradiate the world through this flesh. I am your dance. Let there be no more talk of our separation." Here, after thousands of years of religious combat, my body and soul Christalize into a single magnum mysterium. And where does this mystery occur? In the nameless roadside shrine of my chest, in the oat crunch of cows and fur scent of dogs, in a flame that was always burning yet never lit until Now. Here I celebrate the birth of God, who is this Breath.
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Painting by James Neafsey
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