“And then one day you realize that if you want to be truly wealthy, you’ll have to give away almost everything you own … And once your possessions have been so released, and replaced by principles and virtue, you will know the Oneness of the Source. And then it will be, whether you are standing […]
I then walked serenely ever onward – through the small township of Rural Retreat, past the Fulton United Methodist Church and then, as the Sun was beautifully setting on yet another Beauty-full day, finally into the tiny hamlet of Groseclose, where trucker Remy was more than well-met in a local convenience store – inspired as […]
“To hide from our Calling is allowing our ego’s insecurities to tell God that what we fear is somehow bigger than His greater will; that our own personal comfort is somehow more important than all our fellow brothers & sisters who are (at least to some degree) suffering nearby; essentially that our own sense of […]
I then easily ambled into the town of Marion, first past the Marion Church of Christ (a sanctuary that admonished me – ironically – to “Wake up before [I] fall asleep”), and then past the Marion Baptist Church (an institution that – with equal irony – warned me against any “religion that has become twisted”), […]
“It is not within my power to refuse the journey of life, regardless of the nature of my fears or the depth of my selfishness; for the definitions of ‘journey’ and ‘life’ are indistinguishably synonymous. If we are live, and we are indeed alive, then we must live. And if we live, we must journey […]
And onward I rolled, coming eventually to the Royal Oak Presbyterian Church on the far outskirts of town; a place that called for me to enter, and an entrance that called for me to sit once again (just as I had done so many times in Europe during the first half of this Journey) in […]
I remember well passing by this wide-open little roadside “home” (it was only a glorified storage shed, and yet it even had a tiny front porch) and thinking what a wonderful find it would have been had the day been night and the clear skies been pouring rain. And yet I wasn’t in need of […]
“Journeys, like artists, are both born and made. A thousand differing circumstances contribute to them, some of them willed and many determined by the will. Our own unique journeys flower spontaneously out of the demands of our Soul’s nature whenever the same are exposed to an environmental distress or circumstantial opportunity, and it is true […]
It is true that my human compatriots had provided a steady stream of disappointment up to this particular moment of The Walk*, and yet even if they had chosen otherwise – even if my pilgrimage had been repeatedly well-met by those openly interested in joining me in championing Kindness and Justice and Compassion, nothing could […]
And onward I steadily trudged – through the rising heat of the surprisingly searing afternoon – all the way to and through the hamlet of Seven Mile Ford … “To the pilgrim, the inconceivable becomes one’s path, and the seemingly impossible, one’s wheel and wings … Asceticism doesn’t rest in one’s mere words or lifestyle. […]
And then the town of Chilowie was reached, where the local middle school provided this pilgrim with a less than peace-filled pun … “Laughter is sustenance for the Soul – whether soft or loud or subtle or deep; whether tinged through with heartfelt earnestness or a hilariously jubilant declaration that life is ever worth living […]
;
