Dearly Beloved, Grace and Peace to you.                    

Among trees renouncing their possessions linger long enough 'till it's no longer loss but an opening, a spaciousness, a blessing of the places in between.

The saffron robes, the gold, the brass bells for the eyes, the prayer flags trembling in the wind, the leaves so lightly tendered, leaping off, loving the falling, embracing earth, and air, dropping with delight into the wooden beggar's bowl of this afternoon, a bare branch reaching through the light for light, the many-fingered choir raising praise to chanting skies—

these simple gifts are no ascetic urge but naked offering, the turn of dying into living, broadening the room between our losing and our giving.

                    Deep Blessings, Pastor Steve

__________________ Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes Unfolding Light