Quotes from Cynthia Bourgeault

Only from the level of spiritual awareness do you begin to see and trust that all is held in the divine Mercy. But once grounded in that certainty, you can begin to reach out to the world with the same wonderful, generous vulnerability that we see in Christ.

That person does indeed see from a perspective of singleness—and just as Jesus called for, there is now no separation between God and humans, or between humans and other humans, simply because separation isn't factored into the new operating system. It is no longer necessary for perception, so it simply falls away like scales from the eyes.

All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. —T. S. Eliot, "Little Gidding

From this quantum shift in the hardwiring of perception, of course, the much celebrated spiritual and moral attainments would understandably flow, since a mind that does not need to separate and exclude in order to perceive reality will encounter far less resistance in the current of life and inflict far less violence upon others.

As Boehme puts it: "When you remain silent from the thinking and willing of self, the eternal hearing, seeing, and speaking will be revealed in you. . . . Your own hearing, willing and seeing hinder you so that you do not see and hear God.

The gospel that day (Matthew 4:19) described Jesus's recruitment of his first disciples from among the Galilean fishermen and concluded with the line, "at once they left their nets and followed him." The monk merely commented, "Would that we might do the same.

Once you see this, it's the touchstone throughout all his teaching: Let go! Don't cling! Don't hoard! Don't assert your importance! Don't fret. "Do not be afraid, little flock, it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom!" (Luke 12:32).

contemplative prayer is simply a wordless, trusting opening of self to the divine presence. Far from being advanced, it is about the simplest form of prayer there is. Children recognize it instantly—as I did—perhaps because, as the sixteenth-century mystic John of the Cross intimates, "Silence is God's first language."1

On the up side, the fruit of her "blackness" is a feisty independence that makes its presence felt throughout the poem. She tends her own garden, has her own freedom, and makes her own choices. In a world geared toward the silencing of women's voices, her own voice speaks loud and clear.