![]() ![]() And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears. Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility.įor his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. And he said Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.Įven as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.Īnd could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy Īnd you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.Īnd you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.Īnd a woman spoke, saying, tell us of pain. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king? Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?įor what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honor. Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity. And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring. In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? Then Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death."Īnd he said: "You would know the secret of death. Return to Top Psalm 23 - The Lord's my Shepherd If you do all I have asked, I will live forever. If, by chance, you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you. If you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weakness and all prejudice against my fellow man. Take my cells, if necessary, and let them grow so that, someday a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her window.īurn what is left of me and scatter the ashes to the winds to help the flowers grow. Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body and find a way to make a crippled child walk. Give my kidneys to the one who depends on a machine to exist from week to week. Give my blood to the teenager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play. Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but endless days of pain. Give my sight to the man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or love in the eyes of a woman. Let it be called the bed of life, and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives. When that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine. ![]() At a certain moment a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my life has stopped. The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress located in a hospital busily occupied with the living and the dying. ![]()
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