I have the certainty that one day
we will go back into the vastness of the ocean.
We will be filled with grace and move effortlessly.
We will not need machines, nor need to invent anything.
I have the certainty that once more,
we shall be elegant creatures of the sea.
Inspiration: the world — too much metal, too much cement, too much noise.
There is a profound silence in a Bach Cantata. That silence can also be heard in the paintings of Caravaggio. A flower blooms in silence.
Yes, silence, because it is from silence, that deep internal silence, that inspiration rises and where creation is fully displayed.
And yet, only once you have learned to listen, really listen, and look, really look, can you hear that silence.
The only way you can learn is if your entire being becomes silence. For that you must nourish yourself with silence, breathe it, integrate it; hence allowing your ego to wither, finally unloading the heavy burden of self-centeredness.
You will then be open to that supreme spiritual experience that is wonder —and do not be surprised if it comes to you from the most humble of places.
Note: I only mentioned Bach and Caravaggio, for the sake of brevity. It applies to any work of art in any form, but with criteria, that moves you (and not just your hips!).
Three in the morning.
I cannot sleep.
I wrap a soft shawl around me, and quietly open and close doors leading to the garden.
I walk slowly on the path between the roses, their scent barely perceptible in the cold of the night.
The Cross above the chapel is illuminated by the full moon. It shines in shades of pink amidst the giant pine trees to my right.
I breathe in silence.
Inspiration: Holy Friday (19 April 2019) at La Trappa, Cistercien Monastery, Michoacán, Mexico.
I saw a tree with a million mirrors
standing at the edge of a precipice
roots firm amongst the rocks
branches up in supplication
leaves scattering in teardrops.
Inspiration: one week of near total silence.
Dawn arrives, tip-toeing silently and carrying a lamp.
It settles it quietly on the floor, and slowly raises its flame.
Inspiration: this morning.
Come to my garden.
The one where the roses open in the silence of the night.
The one where my secret sorrows gently wash away the dust from the path,
so that your feet may step onto it.
The garden where tears also water the roses
– the ones that open in the silence of the night.
You will feel your sorrows leave you,
just like the dust on the path.
near the roses that open in the silence of the night.
Several flocks of ducks flew over the house this morning, going north to their summer dwellings.
I thought of counting them. There must have been more than 200 birds in each flock.
And then I came to my senses.
Why this need to count? To appropriate something by putting it into a category or a number? Why compare or count?
Let the birds fly north! Enjoy them as they are!
And most importantly, take in the beauty of their ways in silence just as they leave no traces in the sky.
Inspirations: Spring, morning sky and birds.