Henri Nouwen:

Your true identity is not in the hands of other people. Your identity can never be what some other person may think about you. You were fashioned by God in your mother’s womb. God knew you intimately before you were born. You are God’s beloved child. That is who you truly are.

If we spend all day controlling and blocking others, why would we change when we kneel to pray? – Richard Rohr

The society is the enemy when it imposes its structures on the individual.

On the dragon there are many scales. Everyone of them says “Thou Shalt.”

Kill the dragon “Thou Shalt.”

When one has killed that dragon, one has become The Child.

– Joseph Campbell

The resurrection is, like the healing miracles of Jesus, a reality that restores us to life as we should and can live it – without fear of death, without being controlled by shame, confident that we are welcome home and that we are pre vented even from the self-rejection and self-destructiveness which is the darkest corner of our shadow side. As those on whom the light of the resurrection shines-simply because we turn toward it and allow it to – we live this life day by day in a new way. – Laurence Freeman, OSB

We praise and thank you, Lord, for the uncertain, in-between times in our lives when we can be still and know that you are God. We praise and thank you for the hidden wonders of each day. We praise and thank you for acts of kindness, great and small, that serve to bring about your kingdom. We praise and thank you for the courage to place ourselves under your protection, not allowing fear to have the upper hand. We praise and thank you for your patience with our weakness, for being willing to work in and through us in ways we do not understand. We praise and thank you for our emptiness, which will one day be filled with your love. We praise and thank you for the silent wonders you work in us, preparing us for a life that will find its completion in you. Amen.

When I went out to kill myself, I caught A pack of hoodlums beating up a man. Running to spare his suffering, I forgot My name, my number, how my day began, How soldiers milled around the garden stone And sang amusing songs; how all that day Their javelins measured crowds; how I alone Bargained the proper coins, and slipped away. Banished from heaven, I found this victim beaten, Stripped, kneed, and left to cry. Dropping my rope Aside, I ran, ignored the uniforms: Then I remembered bread my flesh had eaten, The kiss that ate my flesh. Flayed without hope, I held the man for nothing in my arms.

And much more…All on my new page:

You are a sign, and a seeker after a sign; there is no better sign than the seeker after a sign. – Rumi