Running From Grace
To let love in. Really, is such grace. It feels like being held, and caressed on the cheek.
Our bodies want to absolutely collapse into it. To rest in the arms of our beloved. To rest in the arms of the Universe.
We all need that right now. Especially when we feel sad and afraid.
When we are running like a child being chased by a bear in a nightmare.
Like a man running from the rapidly encroaching lava of a volcano. Running, and diving into the ground for cover.
When it feels a massive wall of surf that is headed in our direction. When we fear we will be taken over by the pounding, crushing intensity of it.
We run as fast as we can. Doing insidious little bobs and weaves to avoid it. Bobbing into a box of mini-muffins, or weaving into our facebook pages. Anything to avoid standing still to hear. And see and feel what is trying like hell to reach us.
What we are being asked to do is to stand. And receive. Or to move, and flow. And allow it to flow through us. The love. The grace.
But still, we run. We distract ourselves.
Like when we judge others. It’s a way to create a cloud. It’s a way of clouding the channel, creating noise. Keeping the light out.
The light is whispering. The love is whispering. It is difficult to discern because the windows are so dirty. The lens is so smeared.