The secret
You are doing nothing in particular,but very much so,gazing at the trickle in the gutter,or maybe watching someonelost in what they’re doing,a mother nuzzling her baby,a kid finger painting—and for a moment the worldbursts from its seed,everything that is exceeds,teeming with itself, brimming.Words fall open like handsthat spill what they can’t hold.A superabundance of beingoverflows the visible.Divinity throbs, a frequency.Astonishing as this isit is not a distant realm,not the least bit other,but a hint of the All of you.God seems to bend low, enfold you,and whisper, “Yes we…
The skinny
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