Growth
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The One
If God exists,and God is All in All,then nothing that existsis not God. All faithsare expression of this One God,and all existwithin the wholenessof this All-EncompassingOne. Whatever differences we perceive(and we do perceive differences)–they will one day be seenas they… Continue reading
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Convergence
In the center of the villageseven dusty paths converge. An old man livesin a thatched hut that standsjust to the West. He watches and listensas each travelercompletes the journey. Older than the forest,more patient than the ocean,more stately than cranes,he… Continue reading
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Life is the strugglebetween Ego and Stillness. Chin up, my friend:Stillness wins. Or more precisely,only Stillness is. Text and image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved. Continue reading
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Sermon in the Park, Part 2
The homeless guys,with their parked shopping cartsand scraggly, gray beards,nod as he speaks. "You can cling to the cross,with its dried blood and splinters,or you can come dancing with me." I feel safestwith my face pressed against rough wood,cheeks bleeding.When… Continue reading
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Pinning Blame
Who's responsible for this mess? The "mess" in question is me. Who's to blame?Someone must pay! Who is it that wants to pin the blame? Is it Stillnessor is it Ego? Why… Continue reading
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The Monkey and the Tree
Your thoughtschatter like a monkey. You are not the monkey. You are themagnificent,stately,ancient tree,reaching to the clouds,rooted in the earth,offering shade,silent,strongand wise, through whose branchesraces the monkey. Shrug your massive branches,and let the monkey fall to the forest floor.He is… Continue reading
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Divergence
In the center of the village seven dusty paths diverge. An old woman lives in a cottage that stands just to the East.She watches and listens as each traveler begins the journey.Old as the sea, wise as the mountains, beautiful as songbirds at sunrise,she watches and listens.… Continue reading
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That Which Remains Buried
I live withthe nagging feelingthat there remainsburied within me(not far from the surface–like a hastily interred body,in a dollar-store grave)something I thoughtwas dead,that wants–nay, needs–to come out,not to resurrect,but to be given a proper burial. Whatever the identityof this corpse,it's… Continue reading
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She returns to the houseafter the funeral,alone for the first timein weeks.She exhales onto the couch;a sadness of flowerssurrounds her. This is the silencethat is not silence: the refrigerator hums; the traffic grumbles; her heart beats. This… Continue reading