I Specify You With Joy, O My Comrade

Walt Whitman I specify you with joy, O my comrade

A poem by the American poet Walt Whitman has been making its way around the New Message from God worldwide community.

I specify you with joy, O my comrade

I was not aware of this poem until very recently. It appeared as one of the “Messenger Leaves” of the 1860 edition of Leaves of Grass, and also appears in the “Autumn Rivulets” section of the 1892 “deathbed” edition.

This poem vibrates sympathetically with a portion of the revelation “The Meaning of Christmas,” received by Marshall Vian Summers in December of 1994. This teaching has inspired me to write a number of posts.

“Christmas is a celebration of every moment that the person is moved by Knowledge and contributes with Knowledge. Though it is celebrated as one event in your calendar, as a unique time of the year, it is meant to be an experience for you to have in life and for you to share with others.

Then you will come to know Jesus, not because you can sympathize with him, but because you are undergoing a process that he underwent, and you are beginning to experience the reality that he represented. Then he will no longer be a historical figure. Then he will no longer be an idol for you, someone to worship. Then he will no longer be beyond your reach. Instead, he will become your friend, your companion, your elder brother. And his demonstration and his life, his suffering and his achievement will all have great meaning for you because you will be beginning to experience them for yourself. And you will know that he is not to be idolized, but to be embraced.”

I specify you with joy, O my comrade. Whitman wrote about how others shared his experience now, and how others would share his experience in the future. Did he write about people like you and me?

A compassionater in this context is someone who thinks and feels like someone else. No, I never use the word “peremptorily.” It means “insisting on immediate attention or obedience,” which makes sense from the context.

To Him that was Crucified

MY spirit to yours, dear brother;
Do not mind because many, sounding your name, do not understand you;
I do not sound your name, but I understand you, (there are others also;)
I specify you with joy, O my comrade, to salute you, and to salute those who are with you, before and since—and those to come also,
That we all labor together, transmitting the same charge and succession;
We few, equals, indifferent of lands, indifferent of times;
We, enclosers of all continents, all castes—allowers of all theologies,
Compassionaters, perceivers, rapport of men,
We walk silent among disputes and assertions, but reject not the disputers, nor any thing that is asserted;
We hear the bawling and din—we are reach’d at by divisions, jealousies, recriminations on every side,
They close peremptorily upon us, to surround us, my comrade,
Yet we walk unheld, free, the whole earth over, journeying up and down, till we make our ineffaceable mark upon time and the diverse eras,
Till we saturate time and eras, that the men and women of races, ages to come, may prove brethren and lovers, as we are.

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Welcome to Mystery of Ascension! Добро пожаловать в Тайну просветления! We document the study of the New Message from God in general, and the book Steps to Knowledge in particular. Мы тут делимся своим опытом изучения Нового Послания от Бога, в общем, и книги Шаги к Знанию в частности. Find out more about us here. Узнайте больше о нас здесь. Find out how to contact us here. Узнайте, как связаться с нами здесь.

May We Be Beloveds

may we be beloveds

Deborah Koff-Chapin shared this image, titled “May We Be Beloveds” as a gift for the holiday of Thanksgiving in the United States.

800px-wampanoag2 may we be belovedsMay we be beloveds! The English pilgrims, led by John Carver, and the Wampanoag, led by Massasoit, enacted a peace treaty in April of 1621. It is something of a miracle that there were already fluent English-speakers among the Wampanoag, Samoset and Squanto. There were a number of provisions as to how peace might be maintained. The treaty was more than a peace treaty, it was a mutual defense agreement. Governor William Bradford wrote ““This treaty was scrupulously observed on both sides as long as Massasoit lived [until 1661]…”

May we be beloveds! Am I even allowed to say the word “Thanksgiving” without contemplating the war that erupted after the death of noble Massasoit? Is it a miracle that any treaty lasts between two nations after the individuals enacting the treaty have died?

Signing_of_Treaty_of_Ghent_(1812) May we be belovedsMay we be beloveds! The US and Great Britain have been at peace for almost 202 years.

EntenteCordiale May we be belovedsMay we be beloveds! England and France have been at peace for 112 years.

Camp_David,_Menachem_Begin,_Anwar_Sadat,_1978 May we be belovedsMay we be beloveds! Israel and Egypt have been at peace for 38 years.

May we be beloveds! Just getting along isn’t good enough for me today. Deborah Koff-Chapin’s image inspires me to pray.

May we be beloveds!
May the very word “alone”
Weaken with each heartbeat,
Grow tiny, dim, unknown.

May we be beloveds!
Forgiveness, fully flow!
May the fearful frown be
Forgotten, let it go.

May we be beloveds!
May ancient enmities
Melt into the dancing
Of newfound harmonies!

May we be beloveds!
Oh, may it be ever so!
Blessing of beloveds,
Oh, let it grow and grow!

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Welcome to Mystery of Ascension! Добро пожаловать в Тайну просветления! We document the study of the New Message from God in general, and the book Steps to Knowledge in particular. Мы тут делимся своим опытом изучения Нового Послания от Бога, в общем, и книги Шаги к Знанию в частности. Find out more about us here. Узнайте больше о нас здесь. Find out how to contact us here. Узнайте, как связаться с нами здесь.

And Yet I Swear This Oath, America Will Be

langston-hughes-typewriter And yet I swear this oath, America will be

I offer this poem by the 20th-century American poet Langston Hughes, as a birthday gift for the 240th birthday of the United States of America.

I was introduced to the poem “Let America Be America Again” by then-US Senator John Kerry, who used the title of the poem as a presidential campaign tagline.

And yet I swear this oath, America will be

Even the accusing voice in this poem, the voice accusing America of failing to deliver on its promise, speaks of a dream “so strong, so brave, so true,” that it is worthy of one’s life, one’s fortune and one’s sacred honor.

And yet I swear this oath, America will be. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to think of this poem as a shorter version of Freedom’s Plow.

And yet I swear this oath, America will be. The New Message from God teaches that freedom is rare, both in the universe and in our world. And yet, that’s where we’re going.

All I know is that when I heard the line “And yet I swear this oath, America will be,” everything inside me cried out and stood up and saluted.

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There’s never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one’s own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That’s made America the land it has become.
O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home—
For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,
And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came
To build a “homeland of the free.”

The free?

Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all the songs we’ve sung
And all the hopes we’ve held
And all the flags we’ve hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay—
Except the dream that’s almost dead today.

O, let America be America again—
The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again!

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Welcome to Mystery of Ascension! Добро пожаловать в Тайну просветления! We document the study of the New Message from God in general, and the book Steps to Knowledge in particular. Мы тут делимся своим опытом изучения Нового Послания от Бога, в общем, и книги Шаги к Знанию в частности. Find out more about us here. Узнайте больше о нас здесь. Find out how to contact us here. Узнайте, как связаться с нами здесь.

These Mountains, They Have No Word For Ocean

philip-levine These mountains, they have no word for ocean.I share this poem as my offering of gratitude for the life and poetry of Philip Levine (1928-2015).

These mountains, they have no word for ocean

The New York Times has provided an eloquent obituary.

These mountains, they have no word for ocean. National Public Radio shared Levine’s recitation of his poem “What Work Is,” a poem for which he is well-known.

These mountains, they have no word for ocean. Philip Levine first appeared in my world in 2010, when I enjoyed his poem “My Fathers, The Baltic.”

These mountains, they have no word for ocean. While Philip Levine is usually associated with Detroit, he lived in the San Joaquin Valley for many years, and wrote this poem about this place. It appears in the book “News of the World.”

PachecoLakePachecoPass These mountains, they have no word for ocean

Our Valley

We don’t see the ocean, not ever, but in July and August
when the worst heat seems to rise from the hard clay
of this valley, you could be walking through a fig orchard
when suddenly the wind cools and for a moment
you get a whiff of salt, and in that moment you can almost
believe something is waiting beyond the Pacheco Pass,
something massive, irrational, and so powerful even
the mountains that rise east of here have no word for it.

You probably think I’m nuts saying the mountains
have no word for ocean, but if you live here
you begin to believe they know everything.
They maintain that huge silence we think of as divine,
a silence that grows in autumn when snow falls
slowly between the pines and the wind dies
to less than a whisper and you can barely catch
your breath because you’re thrilled and terrified.

You have to remember this isn’t your land.
It belongs to no one, like the sea you once lived beside
and thought was yours. Remember the small boats
that bobbed out as the waves rode in, and the men
who carved a living from it only to find themselves
carved down to nothing. Now you say this is home,
so go ahead, worship the mountains as they dissolve in dust,
wait on the wind, catch a whiff of salt, call it our life.

I have added some music by Brian Eno to this poem. So long, Philip Levine. We behold you with love and gratitude. Without you, we might not know that these mountains, they have no world for ocean.

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Welcome to Mystery of Ascension! Добро пожаловать в Тайну просветления! We document the study of the New Message from God in general, and the book Steps to Knowledge in particular. Мы тут делимся своим опытом изучения Нового Послания от Бога, в общем, и книги Шаги к Знанию в частности. Find out more about us here. Узнайте больше о нас здесь. Find out how to contact us here. Узнайте, как связаться с нами здесь.

The Back Of The Hand To Everything

mary-oliver The back of the hand to everything.There are 240 Google results for the exact phrase “I love Mary Oliver.” There are 6 Google results for the exact phrase “I hate Mary Oliver.” That pretty much tells you what people think about this 20th-and-21st Century American poet.

The back of the hand to everything

I read her book “A Thousand Mornings” slightly over a year ago. I believed that some of the poems in that book would come in handy in conveying certain feelings here. That time has now come.

This poem should be construed as an interlude of sorts in my contemplation of the New Message from God revelation “The Race to Save Human Civilization,” received in 2009 in Aleppo, Syria. This poem paints a picture of the disrupted climate and violent storms mentioned in the revelation.

It didn’t behave
like anything you had
ever imagined. The wind
tore at the trees, the rain
fell for days slant and hard.
The back of the hand
to everything. I watched
the trees bow and their leaves fall
and crawl back into the earth.
As though, that was that.
This was one hurricane
I lived through, the other one
was of a different sort, and
lasted longer. Then
I felt my own leaves giving up and
falling. The back of the hand to
everything. But listen now to what happened
to the actual trees;
toward the end of that summer they
pushed new leaves from their stubbed limbs.
It was the wrong season, yes,
but they couldn’t stop. They
looked like telephone poles and didn’t
care. And after the leaves came
blossoms. For some things
there are no wrong seasons.
Which is what I dream of for me.

When I contemplate the Great Waves of Change, the difficult times ahead, I recall that line from Mary Oliver’s poem, “The back of the hand to everything.” I believe nature will try to muddle through, pushing out new leaves from stubbed limbs. But will it be enough?

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Welcome to Mystery of Ascension! Добро пожаловать в Тайну просветления! We document the study of the New Message from God in general, and the book Steps to Knowledge in particular. Мы тут делимся своим опытом изучения Нового Послания от Бога, в общем, и книги Шаги к Знанию в частности. Find out more about us here. Узнайте больше о нас здесь. Find out how to contact us here. Узнайте, как связаться с нами здесь.

It Takes A Village Of Ations

ations It takes a village of ationsMany people have either heard or read something created by the American artist Shel Silverstein (1930-1999). Perhaps you’ve heard Johnny Cash sing the Shel Silverstein song “A Boy Named Sue”. Maybe you cried when you got to the end of “The Giving Tree.” Maybe you stopped crying when you got to the end of “The Missing Piece.”

It takes a village of ations

I am in need of Shel Silverstein’s creativity and happiness now. The Free School of the New Message from God is currently studying the revelation “The Race to Save Human Civilization.” I have already written of the unusual circumstances under which this revelation was received. It is one of two revelations to be received in the city of Aleppo, Syria. I plan on writing a post about this teaching, but now I am in need of poetry to even approach the subject. I recalled this poem by Shel Silverstein as I pondered. It appears in the book “Where the Sidewalk Ends.”

If we meet and I say, “Hi,”
That’s a salutation.
If you ask me how I feel,
That’s consideration.
If we stop and talk awhile,
That’s a conversation.
If we understand each other,
That’s communication.
If we argue, scream and fight,
That’s an altercation.
If later we apologize,
That’s reconciliation.
If we help each other home,
That’s cooperation.
And all these ations added up
Make civilization.
(And if I say this is a wonderful poem,
Is that exaggeration?)

It takes a village of ations, to make a civilization. Do we need altercations? So it would seem. But we need a vigorous reconciliation to quickly follow every vigorous altercation. Of such I dream. I dream that we will help each other home. And I mean that, without exaggeration!

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Welcome to Mystery of Ascension! Добро пожаловать в Тайну просветления! We document the study of the New Message from God in general, and the book Steps to Knowledge in particular. Мы тут делимся своим опытом изучения Нового Послания от Бога, в общем, и книги Шаги к Знанию в частности. Find out more about us here. Узнайте больше о нас здесь. Find out how to contact us here. Узнайте, как связаться с нами здесь.

Streaming And Creeping In The Gathering Darkness

WilliamStafford Streaming and creeping in the gathering darknessAmerican poet William Stafford (1914-1993) wrote a poem about a gathering of the gone or endangered species of the earth.

Roll Call

Red Wolf came, and Passenger Pigeon,
the Dodo Bird, all the gone or endangered
came and crowded around in a circle,
the Bison, the Irish Elk, they waited
silent, the Great White Bear, fluid and strong,
sliding from the sea, streaming and creeping
in the gathering darkness, nose down,
bowing to earth its tapered head,
where the Black-footed Ferret, paws folded,
stood in the center surveying the multitude
and spoke for us all: “Dearly beloved,” it said.

Red Wolf. Streaming and creeping in the gathering darkness

The IUCN Red List reports the red wolf as critically endangered. It was extinct in the wild, but recently reintroduced in the United States.

passenger pigeon. Streaming and creeping in the gathering darkness

They say there were once as many as 3 billion passenger pigeons. Audubon Magazine reports that the passenger pigeon was hunted into extinction by 1914.

dodo bird. Streaming and creeping in the gathering darkness

The scientists say the dodo became extinct around 1690. The animals that Europeans brought to the dodo’s habitat had a taste for dodo eggs.

American bison. Streaming and creeping in the gathering darkness

The bison came close to extinction in the 19th century, but is now merely “near threatened.”

Irish-Elk-Skeleton. Streaming and creeping in the gathering darkness

The Irish Elk vanished around 7,700 years ago.

polar-bear-hero Streaming and creeping in the gathering darkness

The polar bear is currently listed as vulnerable, as the future size and quality of its habitat is uncertain.

black-footed-ferret Streaming and creeping in the gathering darkness

The black-footed ferret is listed as endangered, making a comeback from being extinct in the wild.

The music is a portion of the Irish tune “Limerick’s Lamentation,” performed by Patrick Berry.

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Welcome to Mystery of Ascension! Добро пожаловать в Тайну просветления! We document the study of the New Message from God in general, and the book Steps to Knowledge in particular. Мы тут делимся своим опытом изучения Нового Послания от Бога, в общем, и книги Шаги к Знанию в частности. Find out more about us here. Узнайте больше о нас здесь. Find out how to contact us here. Узнайте, как связаться с нами здесь.

My Sentence Was A Thousand Years Of Joy

Robert Bly. My sentence was a thousand years of joy.I remember purchasing the Robert Bly poetry book “My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy” in the summer of 2005. Robert Bly had me at the title of the book. The exclamation point of the book is the poem “Stealing Sugar from the Castle.” The title of that poem would later become the title of the book of Robert Bly’s poetic life of 63 years.

My sentence was a thousand years of joy

Robert Bly has not only written many poems over his long career, but he has translated poems from a number of different cultures and languages. “Stealing sugar from the castle” is his image for his efforts at poetic translation. I share this poem as a valentine to those who are translating the New Message from God from its original language of English, to the languages of the world.

We are poor students who stay after school to study joy.
We are like those birds in the India mountains.
I am a widow whose child is her only joy.

The only thing I hold in my ant-like head
Is the builder’s plan of the castle of sugar.
just to steal one grain of sugar is a joy!

Like a bird, we fly out of darkness into the hall,
Which is lit with singing, then fly out again.
Being shut out of the warm hall is also a joy.

I am a laggard, a loafer, and an idiot. But I love
To read about those who caught one glimpse
Of the Face, and died twenty years later in joy.

I don’t mind your saying I will die soon.
Even in the sound of the word soon, I hear
The word you which begins every sentence of joy.

“You’re a thief!” the judge said. “Let’s see
Your hands!” I showed my callused hands in court.
My sentence was a thousand years of joy.

 

Normally I would recite this poem, but I have something even better, Robert Bly’s recitation of his poem, accompanied by music and video provided by filmmaker DJ Kadagian.

The translators currently do their work in relative obscurity. But I believe that one day, they too will say, like Robert Bly, “My sentence was a thousand years of joy.”

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Welcome to Mystery of Ascension! Добро пожаловать в Тайну просветления! We document the study of the New Message from God in general, and the book Steps to Knowledge in particular. Мы тут делимся своим опытом изучения Нового Послания от Бога, в общем, и книги Шаги к Знанию в частности. Find out more about us here. Узнайте больше о нас здесь. Find out how to contact us here. Узнайте, как связаться с нами здесь.

I Seek To Be A Fragment Of Life’s Heart

Khalil Gibran. I seek to be a fragment of life's heartDuring our meeting with the translators of the New Message from God on the fourth Day of the 2014 Encampment, a gentleman shared a poem. Not only that, but he shared some things before reciting this poem that demonstrated that the poem was an expression of his experience. I recall writing in my notebook, “This is THE poem of the Encampment.”

I seek to be a fragment of Life’s heart

Khalil Gibran (1883-1931) was a Lebanese poet, artist and writer. The book “The Prophet,” containing this poem, was published in 1923. The Prophet is currently in its 163rd printing, and has never gone out of print. I believe it could be reasonably said that this is a book which has touched the heart of the world.

Then said Almitra, “Speak to us of Love.”
And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:

When love beckons to you follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Let these be my desires. I seek to be a fragment of Life’s heart.

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Welcome to Mystery of Ascension! Добро пожаловать в Тайну просветления! We document the study of the New Message from God in general, and the book Steps to Knowledge in particular. Мы тут делимся своим опытом изучения Нового Послания от Бога, в общем, и книги Шаги к Знанию в частности. Find out more about us here. Узнайте больше о нас здесь. Find out how to contact us here. Узнайте, как связаться с нами здесь.

Less Fussing, More Living

American poet Mary Oliver. Less fussing, more livingI have started what I hope will become an annual custom for me. It is a custom of reading a book on Christmas Day. On Christmas Day, 2012, I read the book Tales of the Dervishes by Idries Shah. I have shared four stories from that jewel-box of wonder since then.

Less fussing, more living

On Christmas Day, 2013, I read the book A Thousand Mornings by American poet Mary Oliver. I have shared two Mary Oliver poems so far, one of them coming from A Thousand Mornings. I will most likely share a few more before all is said and done, like this one.

Good-bye Fox

He was lying under a tree, licking up the shade,

Hello again, Fox, I said.

And hello to you too, said Fox, looking up and not bounding away.

You’re not running away? I said.

Well, I’ve heard of your conversation about us. News travels even among foxes, as you might know or not know.

What conversation do you mean?

Some lady said to you, “The hunt is good for the fox.” And you said, “Which fox?”

Yes, I remember. She was huffed.

So you’re okay in my book.

Your book! That was in my book, that’s the difference between us.

Yes, I agree. You fuss over life with your clever words, mulling and chewing on its meaning, while we just live it.

Oh!

Could anyone figure it out, to a finality? So why spend so much time trying. You fuss, we live. And he stood, slowly, for he was old now, and ambled away.

What’s the New Message from God angle? Step 124 (of 365) of Steps to Knowledge “Today I will not pretend I am happy,” teaches “Knowledge is not a form of behavior. It is an intense experience of life.” Less fussing, more living.

Mary Oliver has spent a lifetime being astonished at nature, and eloquently expressing that astonishment. As we say here in Minnesota, you could do worse. Less fussing, more living.

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Welcome to Mystery of Ascension! Добро пожаловать в Тайну просветления! We document the study of the New Message from God in general, and the book Steps to Knowledge in particular. Мы тут делимся своим опытом изучения Нового Послания от Бога, в общем, и книги Шаги к Знанию в частности. Find out more about us here. Узнайте больше о нас здесь. Find out how to contact us here. Узнайте, как связаться с нами здесь.