Time is a line that winds and bends and swirls — vain to try and clutch it.
The heart is a spotted pear — there’s no getting through without some bruising.
The mind is a sea star — able to regenerate its brilliant purple rays, capable of omnidirectional moves, and too often clinging to the same surface.
The soul, at peace, is paradise.
The individual is a phantom — in wonder and blunder, we receive our selves through the eyes of others.
Love is an embattled, radiant thing, with arms that reach for us through the grief-fractured layers of our lives.
Flashes of insight, lit by love, beauty, forgiveness, can rocket your life, then flop down like expired fish. Faith is about remembering those flights.
Grass pierces pavement at its own peril — still, on it grows.
Laughter, at the right moment, restores sanity.
Pack light. Most everything you need you’ll find along the way.
Should you want to find God, which is to say, should you desire meaning, learn to love the earth and her array of inhabitants.
Theology eulogizes the universe; poetry hugs a birch tree.
Theology says I come from the heavens; poetry says I come from Springside, Saskatchewan.
Our favoured certainties should routinely be set on fire to see what rises from the ashes.
Our privilege is also our blindness.
A tincture of cynicism is emancipating, but a full meal is constipating.
Doubt is an apple-a-day, but the spell of skepticism is a hospital cot.
From the crushed grapes of volitional relinquishment, comes the fine wine of spiritual well-being.
Keep pressing your face against your particular gift — a new door will open.
Art enlarges our bearing and being, which is why despots of commerce defund it.
Science and religion are humble in theory, but never when monetized.
An intellectual conviction can be overturned by spiritual experience, but one does not go slagging science.
It may be too late to have an honest conversation with a glacier, but we have to try.
Things reset themselves if they are unplugged for a while, this includes humans.
Wisdom is knowing when to let poison pass through, and when to vomit outright.
To counsel hope at the wrong time, can be malpractice.
Death is hard, hard, hard, and every explanation unfitting.
Adoration is the twin sister of sorrow.
Don’t beat yourself up, worry can be a form of prayer.
The Big Bang is God’s dancing body. The shimmering fallout is yours.
We are bottles in smoke, owls of the wilderness, sparrows of the desert, tracings of the Holy Mystery — on our way home.
Despite the crazed addictions and the pomp of our vanities, our true longing is to be each other’s joy.
Lovers, who are ascending the Everest of life-long commitment, make everything around them stronger.
If we have eyes for it, if we have courage for it, the kingdom of heaven is among us, in unfolding inclusiveness.
There’s always more to be said about peace, love, and harmony, but now, let us lace up our shoes.
