refashioned thoughts for this morning parrots squealing clock ticking body shrugging off sleep.

from winter’s pilgrimage journal

if we go down into ourselves we find we possess exactly what we desire -simone weil

She is right, of course, we seek pilgrimage for personal transformation, for mystical encounter (Pilgrimage in Time, Rosanne Keller). This morning I prayed What do I really want?! Why not be utterly changed into fire, the Abbot replies.
Complete union with God, Love my heart chakra burn fire expand love love love and even as my hands were in reiki over my heart it felt as though my heart is as big as the sky and my hands splayed outward, as if on the cross. I see Jesus’ demonstration of love. I ask to be love and God shows me fire. Asks how I would fare in the desert temptations. And I see that to be love is to be without wish for self-glory.
Time disappears and space is altered as we move through it, says Rosanne. The Bishop of Santiago conjures, Now, go and live your lives without Fear. Camino: Animo! Take courage!

i learned then that for the pilgrim it is necessary to be blessed with longing for the journey. one is full of fire, passion, desire and it is fuel. fire requires a spark, fuel, and oxygen; a triangle, without one, fire dissipates. without longing for the journey, the pilgrim will seek home again.

as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be. world without end. amen.
I have become the Ears of God Taking in the people’s sorrow with them like a bitter drink Snorting their joys like cocaine alongside them Sweeping gratitude down long corridors swaying Sifting through refuse piles of verbiage and sorting sidelong glances…
I tell you what, I’ve never snorted cocaine, but I bet a comparable high is sneaking into a quiet town alone at dusk, walking to its outer limits and making camp in silence and secrecy under a star-packed audience. Sleeping behind a frozen pile of mulch on the fairgrounds, packing as the sun peeks and making my way along the only road out of town.
If a dozen angels fan those newly emblazoned embers and the rich purple blue hue bleeds in my mind’s eye
Call me a prophet awakened, entered by the Christ, broken open
Not for sin or fallen wills but for the glory of each Unique One as walking the earth we all are
How your embers sneak fuel in the fire pit as the guards lay unawares People say the world’s a scary place these days can’t trust nobody
But I’m here to tell you It’s a playground beyond appearances burning within this glorious earthsuit
I’ve been up for an hour, 3am and it’s as if a stork is laying bright hatching babies in the reeds of my shore mind
Writing with one eye in an effort to conserve sleep and trick myself into falling quickly back to it
I tell you, traveling like this is like food for some unnamed hard to pin part of me that has gone hungry for most of my life
All I carry on my back no knowledge of night’s lodging or how I will get there
If the universe is like a huge elephant with hairy feet I lay prostrate there dancing my fingers along her toes and tickling them
The longing must build again
For longing is itself the reward That which is longed for is present in the longing is the chord home

And like a bell that chimes throughout time, I bring myself back home this morning over sesame honey cashews, almonds, a crossed leg right foot falling asleep, sounds of the ticking clock.
I am
Circling again.

I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world
I may not complete this last one
but I give myself to it

I circle around God, around the primordial tower
I’ve been circling for thousands of years
and I still don’t know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?