Dust

The last week or so I have been really struggling with getting up early to do my regular sadhana (meditation) practice. I sat up in bed one morning as I was having a conversation with myself about it. Never have a conversataion with yourself, is something I always tell students. Just get up. But having a conversation I was, when in the middle of my thoughts, I heard a quiet voice in my mind and heart that said, "If you knew Christ was going to be there to meet you, would you get up?"

Well. Yes. That changed my perspective. I would shower put on something nice. I realized that if I am going to see Christ, it will probably be in the quiet morning hours when I am alone communing with Him. Also, like I read this week in Lorenzo Snow's experience (Chapter 3 of the new manual), it is often when we don't feel like it, but do it anyway, that we get the outpouring we have been seeking.

This poem also landed in my possession this week and hit me right in the core. Thought I would share it as poetry always says so much more than a blog post.

Dust
by Dorianne Laux

Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and I was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor--
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn't elated or frightened,
but simply rapt, aware.
That's how it is sometimes --
God comes to your window,
all bright light and black wings,
and you're just too tired to open it