The blue thread of a bird song
woven through the ochre fabric of the woods.
The ticking of birch leaves, oak leaves,
still hanging on in winter.
The breath of wind, maybe a sigh,
as if it remembers something,
or suggests something.
The tapping of branches,
the creaking of the Old Ones.
Listen, and know
that you are really hearing something.

Notice shadows,
how they love geometry,
playing in and out
of what they mimic.
Notice as carefully as shadows notice.

Watch people, their thousand kinds,
each carrying their story boldly or secretly,
the costumes they wear,
how they walk, as if burdened,
or underwater, or in love, or lost, or late.
Watch how people walk through God without knowing.
The glory of God is hidden in plain sight.

Listen to people, really.
Even yourself.

The gate to paradise
is attention.


Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
Listen to the audio recording:

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